


Those Who Wander

by PabbitSupporter



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Shapeshifters, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Barista Bang Chan, Barista Lee Minho | Lee Know, Dissociation mentioned, Emotional Roller Coaster, Everyone Is Gay, Fluff, Han Jisung | Han is a Sweetheart, Issues with food mentioned, Jisung is basically homeless at the start, Light Angst, M/M, Multi, OT9 - Freeform, Platonic Soulmates, Polyamory, Rich Lee Minho | Lee Know, Romantic Soulmates, Sorry Hyunjin., The Author Regrets Nothing, and, error 404: author does not know how to write straight characters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-03
Updated: 2020-07-26
Packaged: 2020-07-30 08:00:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 47
Words: 191,840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20093941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PabbitSupporter/pseuds/PabbitSupporter
Summary: "How hard can it be to catch a cat?"The competition lasts two weeks and starts this Friday.Participation in the event is open to everyone: all ages, sexes, and types are welcome.The cat must be returned alive.





	1. Who?

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome~  
This story has a lot of exposition in the beginning to set up and introduce the events of Jisung's life. It's necessary and there's bits of angst and fluff mixed because I'd never publish something that I wouldn't want to read, myself. That being said, welcome once again to a story where even the side characters have various types of relationships and push the bounds of what typical society projects to be "normal". Long story (ha, puns), short: it's an exploration on the different type of bonds people can have and the experiences they go through for the bonds to form.  
Also, the chapters in the beginning are relatively short but they eventually get longer as I got more comfortable with the plot and characters.  
°˖✧◝(⁰▿⁰)◜✧˖°

Jisung had never liked coffee. The smell? sure. But the taste? He never saw the appeal of ground up charred beans. Yet here he was at a nasty half past three in the morning dragging his exhausted body to the only shop that was open on this side of town.

All he had wanted to do was finish his composition project. But waking up to the imprints of keys on his forehead fueled his spur of the moment decision to find some overly-sugary bean water. The project was due later today and even though he'd finished the countermelody over a week ago, it just wasn't perfect. The piece had a simple walking bass line with a light jazz overlay that wasn't intended to make a person just relax and lose themselves in it. Jisung was losing his entire being to it.

It was late- early?- enough that Jisung was the only one on the streets of the neighborhood. The houses that lined the streets were all rather pretentious- nothing compared to his own. Not that he could call it a house, it was more like a lean-to. Maybe a shack if he was being generous. It wasn't as if he'd done anything to end up there, it's just how the cards of his life played out. His home didn't affect anything he did though. Even if he came to cabbage soup and stale bread most nights, he was still top of his class in most of the subjects and even being submitted for an important scholarship to a nearby music academy. That's why this project was so important: his potential scholarship depended on this as his final piece for his portfolio.

Luckily, the street was well lit and Jisung was able to inspect the architecture around him. The fancy swirls of iron gates and colorful designs of brick walls did nothing to calm his anxiety. Or stop him from stepping on a cat that had decided to sprawl out on the black-top that surely wasn't heated from the Sun's rays any longer.

It screeched, the sound echoing down the street and breaking Jisung out of his trance. 

"Oh my GOD! I'M SO SORRY!" All situational awareness lost, Jisung rushedly jumped backwards and bent down. He stared wide-eyed at the victim; if Jisung was being honest with himself, it seemed as if it was staring directly back at him. Except it was far more pissed off. The nearby streetlight illuminated the creature, reflecting off of it's silky short coat that was so dark it nearly faded into the street save for its shining eyes.

Crouched as lowly as he possibly could get, Jisung waddled over to the cat with his arm tentatively held out. It only watched him with it's extremely unimpressed and slightly curious gaze. At a distance of a couple feet, Jisung noticed the cat was exceptionally groomed for not having a collar. It wasn't underweight either. Though, given the neighborhood he was in, he supposed it wouldn't be too hard for animals to dig through the trash for food.

He voiced his musings which only made the cat seemingly more angry. Indignant, even.

Pulling his arm back to hold them up, Jisung's face contorted in surprise. "Hey, don't blame me that you get the cushy life. It's nothing to be ashamed of. In fac-"

The watch around his wrist beeped. 

With a sigh, the human pulled him back up. "I've got to go. Gross coffee to drink...projects to do... scholarships to get... see ya later, kitty. Sorry for stepping on you." Jisung walked a few steps before turning around to see if the cat was still sitting there, but the street was empty. _ I really am going crazy. Out in the streets at 4am, talking to cats… about to drink coffee… this is crazy. _

A few turns later and Jisung found himself outside of the only open cafe for miles. As he walked inside, he found himself surrounded by a magical atmosphere. The weather outside was decent enough for a t-shirt/ pants outfit; but, this place seemed to warm him to the core. The walls were white with various plants adorning wooden shelves, the fixtures all reflecting a frosty golden ambience. Jisung noticed immediately that the entire place was silent- no customers, no music, no whirring of drink machines or clanking of chefs in the back. It _ was _ four in the morning, though. He definitely couldn't expect the place to be bustling at this hour, even if it did have suspiciously high reviews online. _ Rich people do like their coffee at all hours, after all. _

Jisung felt overly aware of every sound he made as he approached the counter, cursing his jacket which swished with every movement.

Behind the counter, a brown haired boy about his age sat, bent over a book. Upon hearing the ruckus named Jisung, he looked up, an unreadable poker face in place. "What can I get you?"

Honestly, Jisung didn't like coffee at all. He never had the money to even try it and he was scraping the change out of the bottom of his backpack just for this cup. Looking at the menu, he could tell the font was clean and it was well organized. But, there were too many options. Too many words that he couldn't begin to understand- were they even Korean? Jisung's eyes struggled to focus so he opened his eyes wider- hoping the larger area would help him identify something that was cheap but wouldn't taste _ terrible. _

"Well?" The cashier stood up, placing a marker in the book he had been and crossed his arms over his chest in feigned impatience. 

"Uh- I'll take a cold caramel espresso." With an eyebrow quirked, the boy- who wasn't wearing a nametag? What kind of establishment _ was _ this?- laughed at Jisung.

Jisung's mouth pulled tight as he dug through his bag for the change. _ Wait. Why's he laughing? Do I look that bad? How is this funny? _ His self consciousness at his loud fumbling grew along with the heat that was flushing his entire body. _ I'm never coming here again. This isn't worth it. _

The theme of the night, which seemed to be "what can go wrong, will", held true for a while longer. Jisung tried to ignore the shaking in his hands which was worsening by the second._ I wish I could just leave. _

Just as he pulled the last ten piece coin out, his entire bag spilled onto the floor. All of the sheet music he had carefully assembled before leaving the lab, all of the different colored pens and markers he insisted on using for revision, all of his heavy books he lugged around because his locker always seemed too far away. All of it. All across the cafe floor.

With a whine of frustration, Jisung placed the coin on the counter with more force than ever would be necessary and ducked down to gather the pages and supplies. It had taken him more time than he wanted to admit to organize all of the sheets. They were all in order by measure, song, album, and year. And now they were all jumbled. Including the piece he had to turn in later today.

Water threatened to overflow from his eyes, but Jisung was definitely not in the mood to cry in front of some dude who had just laughed at him. And crying took energy that he needed to finish mastering his track. He wiped at his eyes to make sure they were dry before standing up, his things haphazardly shoved into his bag.

"Here's your...carmel espresso." The tone of the barista had completely softened, carrying delicately across the cafe, but his expression maintained it's inscrutable nature.

Jisung did a double take. Maybe his lack of sleep was truly affecting his vision. But the green cup sitting on the counter- with whipped cream and _ two _ cherries on top- was certainly not carmel. Or whatever an espresso was. 

"Uh..." _ Is he making fun of me?... I don't even know this dude.. _

The barista leaned across the counter and addressed Jisung with an amused tilt of his head: "I thought you might like this better. You don't like coffee, do you?" It was more of a statement than a question. "This is a matcha frappuccino. It'll help you out more than an espresso. You'll crash later."

Speechless was the only word to describe Jisung at that moment. He _ did _ like tea better than coffee. But he hadn't seen any on the menu. And even if he did, there was no way he could afford it. They never had tea at home.

Visibly wincing at the rasp in his voice, Jisung stared at the drink in awe as he asked question he was now dreading, "so how much is the difference?" He'd picked the espresso because it would leave him enough change to pick up a bag of chips- and maybe leave half of it behind for the cat he had probably injured- before he headed back to the lab. And now a stranger quite possibly had given him something he couldn't even afford. It wasn't even Jisung's fault, but he still felt ashamed at probably having to refuse the stranger’s kind gesture.

"It's on the house."

"I might charge you for staring, though."


	2. Chronosaurus

"It's on the house." Jisung gaped, eyes raising to meet the other males. If the action hadn't shocked him, finally actually looking at the barista certainly did. He was handsome. Wordlessly so. He fit so well into the cafe's calming atmosphere that it was almost like it had made solely for him. The soft yellow light brought out the amber in the males eyes, created the perfect shadows to enhance his cheekbones, the wavy brown hair held the perfect amount of luster. And the...smirk? It might kill him. _ I'm too young to die. _

"I might charge you for staring, though."

"Oh- I uh, sorry. I'm so sorry."

"If you're going to apologize so much how about you try one of my cakes?" There wasn't time for Jisung to reply- not that it would have been any more elegant than his last fumbling. The barista crossed to the door on the opposite side of the counter space, back into what was probably the kitchen.

_ Cake? _ Jisung _ was _ starving after spending all night slaving away in front of his workstation, but _ does this place even sell cakes? _

Granted, he hadn't spent any time in coffee shops before- aside from standing around awkwardly waiting for one of his friends to arrive- shouldn't there be a sign somewhere about what was being sold? Or a display? Maybe Jisung really hadn't read the menu correctly. _ Maybe there's a dessert menu somewhere? _ He sipped absentmindedly on his drink.

A shout rang through the store, "strawberry, cheesecake, or mint chocolate?"

"I- uh-" Jisung brought a hand up to cover his mouth as some of the frappuccino went down the wrong tube. Where had all of Jisung's social skills gone? "Cheesecake!" With another awkward cough, he added, "please!"

A minute later, there was a slice of plain cheesecake with drizzled caramel in front of him. "Oh my god- this looks amazing." He was practically drooling and he didn't even have a fork, yet. Jisung placed his drink on the counter and took the plate from Minho, bringing it closer to his eyes to inspect it at every angle possible. "Wait. You're not going to poison me are you? I'm too young to die. I know I've got a lot of bad karma today bu-"

"It's just cheesecake. I'm thinking of adding it to the menu." Jisung's look of suspicion never wavered as he looked up to meet Minho's eyes. "If you don't want it, never mind." Minho grabbed at the plate, but Jisung jerked it back before he could get a good grip.

"I never said I didn't want it!" Jisung's face contorted into an exaggerated pout, bottom lip sticking out unbelievably far. "I just don't want to end up in the hospital over random some food."

"You feel fine after the drink I made you, don't you?" With a cocky smirk, Minho nodded towards his creation.

Under his breath, Jisung thought out loud, "I'm at least going to sit down before I dump this everywhere, too."

"Be my guest." Minho motioned towards the nearest table which conveniently had two chairs. The barista went back behind the counter and busied himself. 

Jisung was mildly concerned about what he could be doing given that the shop was still empty except for himself. _ Maybe he's getting ready for the morning rush? It's already getting late... _

A green drink- _his_ _forgotten drink-_ noisily being sat in front of his face startled Jisung out of his thoughts.

"You won't absorb caffeine and sugar just by looking at it."

Regaining his look of suspicion, Jisung glared at the plate of cake. As if he finally won in an internal battle, the exhausted student heavily breathed out before picking up the plate and shoveling the entire slice into his mouth. 

From across the table, Minho exhaled sharply- no doubt in shock.

"If I knew you were going to do that, I would've cut a smaller slice." The disbelief of his voice was overruled by the humorous smirk that overtook his face, yet again.

Jisung's eyes seemingly rolled into the back of his head, slowly chewing his way through the cake. He hadn't expected carmel on the outside of the cake to be mirrored _ inside _ the cake. It was much richer and savory than he had expected. And just what he needed to get enough of a sugar high to make it through at least the morning of school before he would start to crash.

"Slow down, or else you'll get sick."

Shoving the remains of his dessert into his cheeks, Jisung mocked Minho.

The barista just laughed at the sight which made Jisung more than a little annoyed in his sleep deprived state.

"What?"

"Anyone ever told you that you look like a squirrel?"

Jisung looked down, suddenly more tired than he had been when he entered the cafe. 

"Yeah."

Sensing the change in the atmosphere, Minho simply sipped at the water he had brought. 

"Not like it's a bad thing. Plenty of animals love squirrels: humans, foxes, bears, kangaroos...cats..."

The student looked up, incredulous. _ He's so...random? What's his point... _

"I'm pretty sure foxes eat squirrels." Swallowing the last of his cake, he added, "not that I'm a squirrel, anyway."

His watch beeped. Looking at it in confusion, Jisung drooped. Completely. His head dropped onto the table, his chair screeched backward, and his body went completely slack.

If not for the loud- and surprisingly low- groan from the boy, Minho would've thought he was dealing a narcoleptic.

_ I don't want to gooo. Why does the project deadline have to be so soooon??? _

"You've got school don't you? You should be going." The thought of receiving pity from an absolute stranger had Jisung pulling himself up. 

Settling his book bag onto his shoulders, the student brushed himself off and faced the barista who had stood as well.

Now re-energized and single-mindedly focused on his comp project, Jisung tried to remember his basic courtesies. It was the least he could do, after all."You're right. Thanks for everything. You should add that cheesecake to the menu- it was really good. Though I think it could possibly use something more solid to break up the textures. Maybe some chocolate or hardened caramel instead of syrup? I don't know. You're the baker. Anywaay...thank you? Have a good day." 

Jisung cringed as he turned around, cursing his sleep-deprived rambles. He didn't see Minho, with his arms crossed, not even trying to muffle the amused laugh that bubbled out of him.

_Great. Now he's laughing at me. Of course. I'm never coming back here._ _Even if the cake _is _amazing._

"You're welcome back any day~ I'll make you not-coffee drinks whenever."

_ He's just saying that so I can come back and he can laugh and call me a squirrel again _. 

Without turning back or replying, Jisung rushed back to his school. Despite his haste, he took extra care not to step on any of the cats meandering around the rich neighborhood.

He'd been right, at least. His morning snack had given him enough energy to be cognizant through all of his morning classes. The tortillas they in home ec helped him, too. Regardless of his best efforts, Han Jisung found himself nodding off in his composition class. 

Mrs. Kang wasn't even chastising him for the imprints of the keyboard on various parts of his face- not that she really ever did. Mrs Kang was a stout old lady whose glasses always seemed as if they were going to fall down her nose. Typically, she was really nice and always gave great advice. Lately, as Jisung finalized various parts of his scholarship portfolio, it seemed as if she was never happy with his work and always chastised him for the same things. "Too much bass. This is supposed to be for a male group, why are the vocals so high? This transition is too fast. You should've written it simpler."

What was originally his favorite class was becoming a waste of time. Jisung was being forced to write his music to meet one person's standards and was fed up about it. Even if she'd been in the field longer than him, did she really know more about chillstep and hip hop than a teenager? All his classmates liked his music, afterall. 

For those reasons, Jisung had been avoiding actually doing anything productive in class and only worked on his portfolio in after hours- when Mrs Kang left the lab open but was out conducting her various choirs.

Jisung was the only one in his class who was striving to get into a music academy. So, whenever they had presentations or projects, Jisung's inevitably stood out. Not that his classmates were particularly bad, but there was a definite difference in having a bunch of loops on a chart and having organic vocals and studio instruments.

While he received high marks in the class- he always adjusted his projects to meet Mrs Kang's standards- Jisung always felt it wasn't enough. There could always be more done to a track: a better tempo, key, pitch, chord progression. Sometimes it led him into complete breakdowns, but more often than not, it just led him to pure apathy. An automated state where the tracks just assembled themselves and he'd come out of it to find that he had composed, written lyrics, and recorded half an album in a week. It was crazy, but there was something about his 'work mode' that was addicting.

Just the feeling of being completely dedicated to his own work without having to process the rest of his life was satisfying. Sure, Jisung's grades, relationships, and health suffered because of it. But, the mental satisfaction and career progression was worth it, in his opinion.

The noise around him grew- papers being shuffled around, beeps of computers shutting down, chairs being shuffled around. Jisung ignored it all. When his classmates vacated at the sound of the bell, Jisung stayed at his desk in the corner of the room. When Mrs. Kang took her things to her adjacent office, Jisung nodded politely before returning to his work. 

He was so close to being done with this song. Or, as 'done' and 'done' could be in the field of production. Surely, he'd find something wrong with it in a few hours, but for now he was content.

Indeed, he did find an issue in the percussion of the third bar hours after school had let out. Jisung leaned back in his chair, sighing as he ran his hands through his hair. _ How did I not notice it earlier? It's so obvious _.

"Mr Han. I think it's about time you go home. I'm packing up for the day and I think you better do the same." Her subtle suggestions and light tone only served to annoy Jisung. It wasn't as if he couldn't stay and work on his project for as long as he wanted- he had the keys to do so. He'd been given them over the summer by Mrs. Kang, herself. 

Regardless, Jisung nodded and packed his endless stacks of sheet music into his backpack. He'd managed to turn in his composition project. With that small success, Jisung would allow himself a night of rest. Or, a night away from his DAW. Apparently there was some sort of math quiz coming up later in the week and of course, he hadn't studied for it in the least.

Mrs. Kang waited at the door for him to leave, making sure to lock it up once Jisung dragged himself out.

"Your last project that you submitted was very good, Mr. Han. I really liked the contrasting themes between this piece and your last. The bass line meshed very well with the melody and the progression in the countermelody really added to the overall color. Well done."

"Thank you."

"I hope you'll do more pieces like this in the future, they really suit you-" Jisung wholeheartedly disagreed. "and they can be used in a variety of environments so it's always good to branch out."

At the exit, Jisung thanked his teacher again for the praise, reiterating what he always said at the end of assignments. "I'll keep working on different styles. It's hard but I enjoy it and don't think there's anything else I'd rather spend my time doing." After a thought-filled pause, Jisung added, "no. I /know/ there's nothing I'd rather do."

"That's good. The world needs more people like you who are completely dedicated to their craft. Have a good evening, now, Mr. Han. And make sure you get some rest. You look like you need it."

Jisung nodded in acknowledgement and set towards his house.

He'd walked this path many times- all levels of the local schooling were in the same middle-upper class neighborhood. It got old and excessively depressing watching the brick buildings with picket fences fade into increasingly tattered buildings. The brick turned into weathered wood and the windows were either boarded up or duct taped. If someone- like Jisung- walked far enough the structures completely lost their shapes, becoming more and more compact and colorful. In this place, it wasn't uncommon for plastic containers to serve as windows and for piles of newspapers to be placed as shingles.

In the distance, Jisung could hear dogs screeching and the yells of people in various directions. Thankfully, none of them were near his house, but they would still be enough to keep him up at night.

Jisung moved the door- that was actually a door, even if it wasn't attached at its hinges- and replaced it as he entered the dwelling. He was forced to duck his head as he made his way the few feet to his bed. Dumping his bag on top, Jisung looked around. His mother still wasn't home- most likely out at one of her three jobs. He didn't like being in this place to begin with- but it was so much worse without her there. The shack seemed so much emptier. The cool night breeze flowed stronger through the gaps and there was inevitably triple the amount of bugs without her presence guarding the place.

The pot on the small stove in the corner was still warm- it's contents filled with a single serving of rice and some sparse vegetables. It was far more than he had been expecting; yet, a perfect way to wind down after a long day.

As he ate, Jisung worked on his leftover homework. None of his classes were particularly hard, so he typically did his homework in class instead of participating in the lecture. His teachers had learned his ways and after the first few weeks of school had quit calling no Jisung in class. He attempted to study for his precalc test, but his body obstinately resisted. At the small makeshift kitchen table (with no chairs or cushions)- more a bench than a table- Jisung laid his head on his math book and passed out.

Some time later, he vaguely registered his mother coaxing him into his cot, the smell of over-fried oils making his nose burn.

"Sungie, did you study well?" Sitting on the ground next to him, his mother ran her hand through his hair. It was probably in need of a wash (along with the rest of his body), but he'd get to that in the morning.

Jisung hummed in an affirmative note, turning his head into his mother's hand. It was rare that they got to see each other.

"Did you eat dinner?" Jisung nodded. He wanted to sit down and catch-up with his mom, he truly did, but his all-nighter was catching up with him unbelievably fast.

Her next question faded into the background as sleep overtook him and he fell into a dreamless sleep.


	3. Questions

When Jisung awoke to his watch’s alarm, his mother was gone. He still had an hour and a half before school started.

_ How is it possible that I'm more tired now than I was when I went to sleep? _

Shaking his head, Jisung stretched in his cot. The metal of the frame had dug into his back all night and the flat pillow smelled a little too much, but it was still nice to be at his house. It was only home when his mother was here. 

With a sigh, Jisung gathered his school supplies back into his backpack. Carefully pulling his secondary uniform from the shared closet, he pulled his bag on and set off to school. Jisung was early enough that the streets were empty and any possible disturbances were fast asleep. The sun itself was just beginning to rise above the horizon. 

The surroundings opened up and became brighter as he neared his high school, the impressive three storied building towered over the rest of the campus. Lights lit the sidewalk as Jisung walked to the back of the campus, towards the sports complex. Given that it was a Wednesday and far earlier than any student would ever willingly be awake, Jisung figured he would be free of any prying eyes. He was wrong.

If there were any sports team he wanted to avoid- it'd be the tennis team. 

There weren't many people who went to this school from his neighborhood- many of them dropped out last year or the year before. But the tennis team was completely comprised of members who lived in the neighborhood of that coffee shop he'd went to yesterday. They all drove to school in their sparkly rimmed cars and had way too many televisions in their houses. No doubt- some of them even had picket fences, too.

Luckily, the tennis team rarely spared him a second (disgusted) glance. All of their lockers were on the opposite side of the room- they had taken a large portion of the big lockers, leaving people like Jisung to use the barely-large enough ones in the back corner where the overhead light worked only some of the time.

In some ways it was advantageous- he was right next to the showers so he wouldn't have to freeze when he got out. But that also meant that his towel  _ always  _ smelled slightly moldy and all of his gym clothes got musty unbelievably fast.

The tennis team's voices echoed off the walls as they bantered obnoxiously. The stream of his shower gave away his location, but the jocks were too caught up in their conversations to care. Jisung normally did his best to tune their snide comments and crude wishes out, but their current topic peaked his interest:

"-dude's got to be fucking crazy."

"How hard can it be to catch a cat?"

"Seriously just set a trap and get it's collar. Can't be that hard."

"What if it's got like... cat rabies or something?"

"Yeah, I'm not touching something like that with a ten foot pole."

"But it's worth an entire estate. And maybe a chance at some rich dude's ass. Just drug the damn thing." Jisung felt his stomach flip.

"I don't think the dude would let you near his house if you drugged his cat..."

"He's literally the one who put out those fliers. If he doesn't like it, then he should've worded it better."

"I guess.. I wonder how many people will be participating? If it starts this Friday there's plenty of time for people to prepare crazy stuff... and there was no end date? I guess this guy has to be seriously crazy."

"Who is he anyway?"

"There are so many other ways to go about curing your old man loneliness."

"Just go to the red light district. There are plenty of whores there. They'll take anyone if they have enough money." Jisung cringed. His mom had been one of those 'whores' at one point. Part of their situation was due to her leaving that wretched place- but Jisung would never change it for the world. Having his mother safe- although these days her mental health seemed to dwindle with the increasing world hours- was much more important to him than any physical luxury. 

"Speaking from experience?"

"Maybe the dude's just a shut in and wants someone else to do all the work for him."

"That's what the whores are for."

"I bet he's ugly as sin. Can't get any on dates so he wants them to come to him without knowing a damn thing about him."

Turning his shower off, Jisung wrapped a towel tightly around his midriff and walked back his open locker. 

The shower itself had done a lot to raise his spirits- hot water being a rare indulgence. The soap provided by the school always smelled better than what they had at home.- more cheap floral and less moldy plastic. The overall hygiene at school was a lot better, too. No matter how many times he scrubbed their sinks and floors it always seemed like something was growing there that shouldn't be.

Jisung wasn't sure where his mom showered, but it certainly wasn't at their house. He never bother questioning her about it. 

"I'm going this weekend to get one of those animal catching poles."

"The ones that go around their necks? Or the electrified ones?"

"Probably the basic ones. I'm not going to put too much effort into it. If I catch the little bitch, I'll probably just turn the dude's place into a storage garage anyway. My mom just bought a new boat and it takes up too much damn space. The dude can be our professional boat waxer for all I care."

Jisung felt the (minimal) contents of his stomach crawl out of his stomach.These entitled kids were going on and on about abusing some random animal. And that guy with the boat issue? Jisung had seen him in his history class and had no doubt that his "boat" was at least triple the size of Jisung's home.

Packing up his things and locking his locker, Jisung made his way towards his first classroom. The campus was far more alive now: groups of students were scattered around the winding path and lining the halls. Jisung felt the familiar sting of not having a group of his own to gossip with. At the same time, the freedom to wander allowed for him to pick up on all the latest news as he made his way to Pre-Calc.

Apparently, there were fliers up across the town announcing some rich dude and a sacrificial cat. All the information spun around Jisung's head as he sat down and organized his desk: whoever was able to catch "The Cat with the Collar" and bring the collar to the owner would be offered marriage (and, therefore, shared rights to the owner's fortune and estate). The rules seemed simple enough. Participation in the event would be open to anyone and the event? competition? would last for two weeks. The cat must be alive, and only one person could 'win'. 

It seemed simple enough. The cat in question has a dark coat and would be wearing a diamond collar. But on the other hand, there were so many cats in the city; especially in the neighborhood everyone was convinced the owner lived, that it would be an arduous task even finding the right cat let alone catching it. But, with the way the school was talking about it- the flier was initiating a manhunt (or, rather, a cathunt?) for this poor animal. People were tossing around ideas about drugging and maiming- but not killing!- the cat.  _ I wonder if this guy's realized what he's done. And what he's about to subject his pet into enduring. What about the other domesticated cats? What if someone mistakes the wrong cat for the one described in the flier? _

Briefly, his thoughts flashed to the cat he'd accidentally stepped on this morning, in  _ that _ neighborhood.  _ No way was that  _ the _ cat. _ Jisung didn't consider himself to be particularly skilled with animals. The ones in the park he frequented never rubbed against him or took his food offerings like he'd seem them do with others. Instead, they just kept their distance and watched him. The way their eyes flashed and glowed under the streetlights should have freaked him out. If anything, they felt like his friends. They listened to his troubles without wavering or running away. It was more than he could say any other beings in his life did.

A hand rapping on his desk startled Jisung out of his reverie, "Mr. Han. I understand this is a morning class; but, it would do you some good to pay attention for at least five minutes once in a while."

With a practiced apologetic smile, Jisung refocused onto the lesson- which he'd already studied on his own over a week ago- and refrained from commenting when his teacher mistakenly put a 3 instead of a 4 into his example calculation.

The day passed slightly faster than usual; all the people- even some teachers!- were talking about The Cat now. It was a chance to see how gruesome human nature could truly become- regardless of age or position in life.

Jisung had chosen his position on the matter pretty easily: if he came across the animal, he'd keep it safe from the maniacs. However, he wasn't going to seek it out- or "hunt" for it- as most were saying. If the cat happened to cross his path, he'd treat it like any of the other animal. Maybe give it part of his snack if he had one. A few ear scratches were a given if it let him close enough. It would definitely need a good, warm meal after all the traumatic events that were, undoubtedly, going to occur. The thought of indulging himself in the promised rewards for taming the animal never crossed Jisung’s mind. Not even once.

With the new excitement, Jisung was able to slip from one class to the other comfortably unnoticed. And soon enough, he was seated in his favorite corner. The bag of slightly burnt tortilla chips was not-so-hidden in his lap was managing to keep his stomach from growling  _ too _ loudly. Not like  _ he'd _ hear it, anyway. His headphones were the only possession he owned of actual quality- noise blocking and perfect for monitoring his new track.

Mrs. Kang was letting them have a free day: "to recover from the last project and get ideas flowing for the next assignment." Which she'd be giving to them tomorrow.

Things were actually going well for him. It was amazing how much decent sleep really affected his ability to produce. The counter melodies and bass lines today all seemed perfect for a variety of genres; Jisung had no doubt he'd be able to manipulate them into whatever progressions Mrs. Kang wanted to see.

He worked through his free period and into the evening- only stopping once Mrs. Kang came in and sternly 'recommended' that he go "hang out with his friends or feed his pet fish". 

The sky was far darker than he had expected, but it wasn't unusual given the extremely productive session that he'd just had. The lab was hidden within the halls of the music wing so it was easy for Jisung to lose track of time when he was inside. 

In the distance, the lights of the football field were still on and faint cheers echoed off the surrounding buildings. Jisung put his headphones back on. Even if they weren't actually connected to anything anymore, the silence was far more comforting than the distant rumbling of cars and city life. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to interact with people; but, with the types that came out around this time,  _ he didn’t want to interact with people.  _

Luckily, it was warmer than it had been the day before and Jisung was able to comfortably stretch his stiff muscles as he thoughtlessly walked through the city. He didn't pass any people, but there was a cute poodle caged in someone's backyard that followed him as he walked by. 

Before he could consciously realize it, Jisung was laying upside down at the bottom of a tube side. There was no way he didn't look ridiculous to some passing person, but Jisung was comfy. He had a great view of the stars that showed themselves between the fast-passing clouds.  _ And _ he was protected from the breeze that had picked up since he’d left school.

If Jisung fell asleep in that position, it's not like anyone- or any _ thing _ \- noticed him. 

Except the warm ball of fur that was curled up next to his head. 

And the thermos that was placed underneath the edge of the side. Which Jisung  _ really _ shouldn't have been able to knock over as he stumbled, light-headed and drunk on sleep, out of the slide.

The cat disappeared before Jisung could right himself.

Confused, he grabbed the metallic container and was surprised to find that it was still warm.

"You did  _ what? _ Are you  _ crazy _ ? _ " _

"You know it’s not going to matter in the end right? With this dumb contest you guys conconted I’m going to end up in a kennel with someone’s tag around my neck getting fed shitty canned food on the dot twice a day. Who cares if I want to mess with some human?  _ while I still have the opportunity? _ " A sarcastic laugh.

The boy who initially spoke pursed his lips, rubbing his temples. He  _ knew  _ it had been a bad idea and tried to talk the idiots out of it. He agreed that his friend needed someone to share his life with; but, going about it  _ this way _ was just pure wrong. And now said friend was just going to create a mess of emotions for himself without any regard to his future.

"You all told me I never took any initiative. And the one time I-  _ harmlessly _ \- do, I get lectured. No. I’m not doing this. Fuck you. I hope you have a great "hunting season". That’s what they’re calling it, by the way. A fucking hunt. Like I’m a deer or some turkey and they’ve got to prove themselves. How great, huh?"

At that, his disgruntled friend stormed out. The door slammed, rattling the windows and surrounding fixtures.

Sinking into his chair, the boy let out a heavy breath. Despite his opposition, he should’ve done  _ more. _ None of them expected the town to take this challenge so seriously. At the rate things were going, someone was going to get injured.

Pulling out his phone, he pressed the first speed dial option and curled into the plush padding. With his head resting between his knees, he waited, growing more anxious by the second, for the person to pick up.

The line picked up after the second ring with a hummed question coming through. "Woojin. We’ve got to do something. This competition is getting out of hand and it hasn’t even started."

"I know."

Walking into the cafe the next afternoon was extremely awkward for Jisung. His residual good mood from the new project Mrs. Kang had assigned- which had perfectly fit the pieces he’d worked on yesterday- was continually battling with the anxiety of returning the canteen. But, he had to do it. It’s not like he could just keep it and give it back whenever he was ready. It had to be today that he returned it.

It was already too kind of the boy to leave Jisung porridge that morning. Something that he was familiar with and didn’t particularly like (given that it was a cheap diet staple from his younger years). There was something about this porridge though that made it more than just liquid mush that was simply amazing. So good that Jisung managed to split it between his breakfast and lunch meal times and still find it tasty even after it cooled off.

It was the first time in a while that he’d been able to sit in the music wing- there was a strict "no food" allowed in the lab- and snack during his lunch period. The additional sustenance saved him from starving on a "theory" day in home ec which meant they were researching recipes and techniques instead of actually cooking.

The cafe in day time felt odd. It was similar, but different. Like a harsh white compared to a warm white. It felt more sterile, like a place that would be inhabited by decaffeinated and stressed out businessmen or gaggles of teenagers with too much time and money on their hands. The environment was a shocking juxtaposition to the warmth it possessed at night. 

A bell above the door rang lightly as Jisung entered, the student feeling immediately out of place. There were small congregations of people across the place, most hunched over with their laptops pulled out and papers strewn about the tables. 

The observation made him even more self conscious.  _ Maybe I should just come back later? Or leave it outside with a note? He wouldn't mind that right? No one would steal it or anything? I could bring it back after sunset so there'd be less people? _

Jisung stood in the entryway, eyes wide and mind spinning. He shouldn't have come here. And now the barista- who  _ definitely _ was not Minho- was talking to him. Or trying to, Jisung's grip on his backpack tightened as he stared at the curly blond.

As usual, he could hear nothing. The world was silent around him as he was frozen in place, more and more of the patrons turning to look at him. He looked awful. Jisung knew he did. In comparison to those who were able to buy triple shots of espresso in their nasty soy mochas, Jisung looked like a stray cat. Even though he'd made sure to wash everything /extra well/ this morning, they could probably smell him from the opposi-

A hand acrost the back of his shoulders was pulling Jisung along, past the counter into a side room. His feet dragged as he tried to will them to work normally, but Jisung miraculously managed to make it through the doorway without tripping over his own feet.

In this room there were no people, just a giant window outlooking a mini garden and high wooden fence. The fixtures mirrored the designs of the main cafe, but in the center was a long, white table. The chairs surrounding it were white leather, each possessing a furry mint-colored pillow. At the head of the table was a large black chair that stuck out starkly against its environment. 

The arm led a still-stunned Jisung to the imposing chair, and pulled it out before coaxing Jisung's backpack off his shoulders. With the bag resting against the leg of the chair- still within his reach- Jisung was gently guided into the fuzzy depths. Gaze locked downward, Jisung wrung his hands, twisting and untwisting the loose headphone cord.

A nearby chair was pulled out and a body slowly dropped into it. The person had ridiculously new-looking black gym shoes on; and, freshly pressed khaki pants hung just above the shoes, revealing socks that looked like they could've belonged to a professional clown. Jisung giggled to himself.

A hand reached out, tapping him twice on the knee. Jisung jumped. His eyes shot up and his breath caught. It was  _ him _ . He'd found him again. Minho.

Minho tilted his head with a raised eyebrow and gestured towards Jisung's headphones. The still-shocked boy reached up slowly and pulled them off. Carefully settling them in his lap, Jisung preoccupied himself with wrapping the cord around the head band.

A low cough brought his gaze up, yet again. 

Minho was looking at him with blatant curiosity.

"I- uh-"

"Are you okay?"

It was Jisung's turn to raise an eyebrow. "What?"

"Do you have a habit of sleeping in public parks? Or was I just imagining things?"

_ Do  _ you  _ have a habit of being this nosy with all people? Or was I just imagining things? And why the hell were you over there anyway? _ Minho’s image didn’t exactly scream "I go to the park to watch the sunrise". But, then again, he didn’t really know  _ what  _ to make of Minho, at all.

"I- well-" Jisung huffed and gave up speaking briefly as he dug through his bag for the canteen. Grasping it firmly, the boy placed it on the table near Minho and resumed fiddling with his headphones. "Thank you."

"You didn't answer my question." The statement wasn't accusatory, rather questioning and subdued."

Jisung looked up to see Minho gazing at his old shoes. The only part of his outfit that he never managed to keep clean given that he only had one pair for school and had to walk everywhere. The other’s poker face was strong, but he could imagine the thoughts running through his mind. A particularly stinging sore spot from nights before resurrected itself as Jisung took note on the difference between his shoes and the stunning, sterile design of the cafe. Jisung crossed his ankles and tucked them underneath his chair; a subtle ashamed blush colored his cheeks.

"What says I have to answer your questions?" 

"The fact that you came back here. Returned this," Minho gestured to the thermos, "and didn't steal it when you definitely could've."

"I'm not a thief!" Jisung’s hand abandoned his headphones, clenching into fists as every muscle in his body tightened.

Holding his hands up, Minho's eyes widened as he quickly replied, "I didn't say you are." He lowered his hands and leaned forward, bracing his elbows against his knees, ensuring that he kept eye contact with Jisung the entire time. "I said what I know you're  _ not _ ."  _ Oh.  _ The sudden drop in Minho’s tone gave away the elder’s clear honesty.

Unable to look away, Jisung pulled the last of his confidence into his facade and leaned forward as well. All but hissing: "you don't know  _ anything _ about me."

The smirk returned. "I don’t  _ not _ know anything about you, either."


	4. Hero's Soup

"You don't know _ anything _ about me."

The smirk returned. "I don’t _ not _ know anything about you, either."

Jisung huffed and leaned backwards, into the chair which was unfairly fluffy. The black cushions felt like they were absorbing his tension and stress the longer he sat.

"I know that you go to Park J Academy on the other side of town. You probably study music- do you play piano or sing? maybe you conduct or compose." Minho mirrored Jisung's position, folding his arms over his chest. Receiving no response, he continued, "You're in Pre-Calculus and don't seem to take notes or revise at all given that your notebooks are filled with drawings and not actual knowledge." A short pause and what Jisung could only consider to be "The Evil Look" took over Minho's features. "I also know that you drool when you sleep."

Jisung rolled his eyes, a little put off by the barista's carefree but excessively observant nature. "Okay, you know as much as a stalker would." Minho laughed, his face softening as he threw his head back. "Are you proud of yourself? Don't you have something better to do with your time? Study something? Take a girl out to the movies?" 

Minho's laugh suddenly cut off. Jisung continued out of brazen spite; thoughts he didn't even know he possessed just kept falling out of his mouth. There was something about Minho that had him ignoring any sense of filtration. "Maybe partake in that contest like the rest of the city?"

The barista abruptly stood up, chair screeching across the ground. Jisung caught a glimpse of a tight frown as the other boy turned around.

"Stay here." Without even glancing at Jisung, Minho sharply grabbed the thermos and stomped out of the room, throwing the door open and letting it close on its own with a soft _ click _.

_ Well, that was...interesting? Great communication skills, Han Jisung _ . _ A+. _

After wallowing in all the ways that the interaction could've gone better, Jisung's lips were nearly bleeding. There were _ so _ many other things he could've said differently, or not said at all. Who was he to joke with someone he barely knew?

The room he'd been was nice...clean. Very clean. If Jisung were to move, he was sure that there would be something immediately out of place. He was surprised that there wasn’t a clear trail of dirt left from when he walked into the establishment. Thus, he stayed as still as possible until the door reopened.

...Which felt like an eternity later.

But it wasn't Minho that walked through. _ He must be pretty angry... _ Jisung wasn't even sure why the other reacted how he had; but, he pushed those thoughts aside as he put on a tense smile to greet the newcomer.

The blond was quite obviously the cashier he'd seen upon entering the cafe. The bright blonde hair wasn’t all that common, particularly in an area encapsulated by school districts. The boy didn’t look much older than Jisung, making thoughts race through his head. _ How is he not in school? Where’s his school uniform? Is this his part-time job? _

Sitting up straight, Jisung did his best to look "not-out-of-place". But it was difficult so he forced a small smile. "...hello?"

The other walked closer, gently placing a familiar thermos where it was earlier. Jisung's eyes zeroed in the cartoonish name tag, "Chan", before being distracted by the jingling of the other's multitude of bracelets. The silver and black beads fit shockingly well against the white button down and bright mint waist-apron.

"You must be Jisung." The voice was a lot more gentle than the inherent punk appearance the other radiated. Jisung’s shoulders dropped as his stress dropped. This guy didn’t seem the type to pick up where his ...friend? had left off. Jisung was thankful for that, not sure if he could handle another cycle of extreme emotions.

"You must be Chan?"

"Hah. Yeah. You guessed it." Chan awkwardly shuffled his feet, scratching the back of his head. "Sorry. I'm not the best at introductions. Neither of us are..."

Silence. Chan seemed to be taking in everything about Jisung while the latter resumed staring at his shoes. Which were far more worn than Minho's- and Chan’s, which he could see out of his peripheral vision. The left one practically had a hole where his big toe poked out of the side.

_ Why am I still here? Why didn't I just drop the canteen at the counter and leave? _

Chan broke the silence, clearing his throat. "Do you have anywhere to be?" Jisung winced. Did he _ ever _have to be somewhere that wasn't school? Did he even have to be at school? No one would notice his absence except Mrs Kang. But she sees so many students a day, Jisung doubted she would think twice about his seat being empty.

Seeing Jisung visually spiral, his hands grasping together so tightly the blood vessels stood out, Chan backtracked. "Sorry. Do you have anything you're supposed to be doing right now?"

Jisung shook his head. Still spiraling.

Chan stood, patiently waiting, arms crossed. A frown was clear on the other's face when Jisung finally mustered the courage to look up. 

A plan to kindly thank the barista and run out of the cafe, never looking back, was firmly formed in Jisung's mind. If he could just slip past the tables fast enough, maybe none of the patrons would recognize him. Maybe he could just be forgotten as his feet carried him anywhere that wasn't here.

Hands were lightly placed on his shoulders for the second time that afternoon. Back into the chair, Jisung was guided (politely forced?).

"Sorry, but could you wait for Minho to come back? If you do have something, I can ask him to hurry up. Would that be better? Otherwise, you're welcome to chill here. No one really comes back here so you don't have to be worried about any rich pricks or classmates."

Jisung's eyes widened, now locked on Chan. "That's part of the issue, isn't it?" Looking down again, Jisung slowly nodded. "I know you don't really know me... but if you want to talk I'm usually here for day shift...or just hanging around the place." Silence. Chan was unsurprised at the lack of response, but sighed nonetheless. "I'll go see if Minho's done yet."

The boy, who couldn't be much older than Jisung- _ shouldn't he be in school? He works day shift…- _ stopped just before the door closed behind him to call back, "you should open that thermos. It's on the house."

The door shut.

Unsurprisingly, Jisung didn't actually have anywhere to be. Or much to do. Except the Pre-Calc homework that he pulled out to distract him from whatever awkward mess hard just occured. And even more worrisome- what would happen when Minho walked through the door.

After working through three problems (with like...six parts each! at least!) Jisung remembered the thermos. The container that was freaking him out far more than it should have looked no different than how he had first seen it. 

Jisung carefully pushed his spiral out of the way, placing the item in front of him. It wasn't suspiciously heavy or light. Nor did it make any weird sounds when he gave it a little shake. Maybe a little sloshing, but even _ that _ wasn't abnormal. It wasn't like Chan had left him chopsticks or a spoon so it couldn't be soup or an equivalent. Unless they were evil and just wanted him to suffer with a burned tongue for the rest of the week? Jisung doubted that. The (still suspicious) duo seemed well-intentioned at the very worst.

A cringe-inducing _screeeCH_ resounded through the room as he slowly twisted the cap off. 

Jisung giggled.

School-girl-"crush-just-breathed-near-me" giggled.

I'm-going-insane-but-it's-too-late-for-me-save-yourself giggled.

This-is-too-good-I-must-be-dreaming giggled.

Shaking his head in disbelief with an almost painful smile, Jisung brought the drink to his lips, reveling as the same too-sweet (but somehow, just right) liquid slid down his throat. The cream on top had melted slightly, but it only made the rest of the icy drink even sweeter.

The drastic and sudden change in mood had Jisung bobbing his head and tapping his feet to various rhythms flowing through his head. It wasn't long before the margins of his homework (which he had to turn in the next morning. oops.) were filled with bars of imagined music.

Dusk set around him, forcing Jisung to pack his bag. The light in the room wasn't due to the wall next to him being filled with large windows, but with the sun setting and the sky reflecting various colors, Jisung had a feeling it was nature's way of telling him he had overstayed his welcome. 

(It didn't help that there was no light switch in the room that he could see. And anyway, turning the lights on in a public establishment without permission just felt...wrong.)

Minho never made another appearance and neither had Chan. The muffled traffic outside the door had indicated that he hadn't been completed abandoned, but it still hurt? that he'd been left alone. Granted, the elder? (they seemed older? and it didn't seem like they went to school...) two had a whole cafe to attend to, Jisung understood they couldn't direct their attention to some random kid that had been more-or-less dragged in.

With his bag fully packed, Jisung walked to the door, running his hand along the backs of the perfectly aligned white leather chairs. One last look back at the room bathed in warm sunset colors. The place was so sterile, but welcoming all the same. Better than the judgments that were guarded by the white door which he now had to open. All he had to do was turn the curved golden handle and he could turn right and sprint right out the glass doors and out of sight. Back to the park. _ Back home? _

_ Anywhere but here. _


	5. Maze of Memories

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter...turned out oddly poetic. No regrets. If you don't like it....wellllll...oops. I have -0 regrets over the absolutely terrible puns as well. Sorry not sorry~  
°˖✧◝(⁰▿⁰)◜✧˖°

With his bag fully packed, Jisung walked to the door, running his hand along the backs of the perfectly aligned white leather chairs. One last look back at the room bathed in warm sunset colors. The place was so sterile, but welcoming all the same. Better than the judgments that were guarded by the white door which he now had to open. All he had to do was turn the curved golden handle and he could turn right and sprint right out the glass doors and out of sight. Back to the park. _ Back home? _

_ Anywhere but here. _

**Hand on handle.**

**Deep breath.**

**Don't pass out. Don't hyperventilate.**

**Move arm in downward motion.**

**Square shoulders. Eyes forward.**

**Don't tremble. Don't make eye contact.**

**Pull door towards self.**

**Step aside. Don't hit self with door. Don't hit the thermos on the door. Don't hit /bag/ on door.**

**Do not linger. Do not draw attention.**

Walk out of doorway, closing door behi-

**DO. NOT. WALK. **

** _ABORT._ **

T o o

late.

A body pulled into the room crashed into Jisung. He hit the door. Multiple times. His head throbbed. He maintained his balance- or rather, he was assisted in keeping it.

A hand slammed into the door. An arm wound around his waist. A leg was pressed against the outside of his.

**Don't pass out. Don't hyperventilate.**

He was effectively caged between a body, the door, the floor, and the ceiling.

**Don't tremble. Don't make eye contact.**

Vaguely, Jisung recognized the sound of a ceramic plate shattering on the polished concrete below him. His bag was on the ground too. Same for the thermos he had previously clutched against him.

**Do not linger. **

Jisung muttered a shocked "sorry" in the loudest voice he could manage. He wasn't even sure if the other person could hear it. Talking while trying not to break down is _ hard _.

_ For the second time today, too? WOw. Way to go me. _ But they- and everyone else in the place- were probably looking at him now, so hopefully they could read lips.

**Do not draw attention.**

A low chuckle. _ gReAt. I’m being laughed at, now. _ The person backed up.

Jisung's gaze was locked on the ground. Better to feel inferior than to acknowledge that other people saw him as such.

Black shoes. 

_ The _ black shoes.

Minho.

Jisung's mind raced. He hadn't seen the barista in a while, but he had been generally nice(? he wasn't sure what to call their hospitality quite yet, but it wasn't 'bad', so he settled for the word 'nice' for now). Even if Jisung _ had _ clearly pissed him off earlier. _ What am I supposed to say to him? What am I supposed to _ do? _ Where's Chan? _

Part of Jisung had desperately wanted to compensate the two strangers for what they had done for him: the free drinks, the solitude (which was harder to come by when you live in a shack and go to a public school), and their curiosity (which reassured him that _ he existed _. He wasn't merely drifting through life 'just surviving'. It also scared him because it was a foriegn concept when directed at him by someone that didn't share his blood.).

"Are you okay?"

That question. Again. Twice today. No mockery or malintent. Just... a question. He could respond this time. Fuck the people staring at him.

**Square shoulders. Eyes forward.**

"Are _ you _ o- okay?" Forcing himself to ignore the stutter, Jisung met Minho's carefully veiled expression with (maybe, slightly excessive) ferocious pride. The other's eyes were breathtaking as the sparkling brown reflected the last of the sunset. (almost!...? Jisung was having enough issues with respiration that he refused to acknowledge the barista's innate beauty.)

"More okay than the cake you're stepping on. Or my foot that you so kindly threw my own thermos at."

Jisung's eyes widened as he looked down. The strips of chocolate decorations left a trail roughly straight down Minho's apron- which was luckily covered in various patches of _ other _ ingredients already. Indeed his ratty left shoe was effectively _ covered _ in what Jisung imagined once was a beautiful slice of chocolate moose...something. He cringed.

A high, breathy laugh resounded through the cafe. The _ cafe _ which was severely lacking in patrons. In fact... it was empty save for them.

"You're the sweetest guy I've ever seen, Min." Chan.

Snapping his focus to the newcomer, Jisung felt his face turn bright red. One person seeing the worst day he's had in months is one thing. But _ two? _ Horrifying.

**Deep breath.**

Before he could even think, Jisung reached out a (totally not trembling) hand and swiped his index straight down Minho's uniform. Right through a strip of fluffy whipped cream. And stuck the finger into his mouth, tilting his head. 

Ignoring the two shocked onlookers, he pretended to be lost in thought as he swirled the sugar around.

With an echoing 'pop', he took the finger out and looked directly at Minho. A subtle challenge to the one standing less than two feet away.

"I agree." No wobbling. No stutters. Just a beautiful man frozen in place as Jisung gathered his belongings, taking his left shoe off as to not spread the mess any further.

Maybe, a little wobbling. Minho grabbed one of Jisungs flailing arms before he could face plant, only letting go once Jisung was stabilized. And staring at him like he'd thrown a cat down a slide. So much for the confidence he'd been able to muster up. The younger quickly recovered.

Minho opened his mouth, eyes scrunched in amusement, but Jisung swiftly cut him off. "Don't ask if I'm okay."

"He's not okay." Chan's laughing echoed through the cafe, unrestrained. "He's happie. Can't you tell?"

The two turned to watch the blond barista all but lay on the counter as his body shook in unshared hysterics.

Pulling his arm out of Minho's firm grasp, Jisung grabbed his shoe and theatrically hopped out of the danger zone and over to Chan. 

"I'll clean it up. Don't want the floor to be all caked up."

Minho groaned, hands on his hips, head tilted towards the ceiling in a silent prayer. "It wasn't even a cake"

Pulling himself up so that his chin rested on his palm, Chan grinned. His eyes were sparkling with unshed tears as he managed to speak through muffed giggled, "_ yeah _, it was a piece of cake to beat your puns"

"Irrational of you to think you could ever beat me. Obviously I'm batter."

"Sweetie. I'm obviously the baKING of this. Time for you to go home. We'll clean up."

Despite the joking atmosphere, at the mention of 'home', Jisung's face immediately fell. 

"Really though, I insist on helping clean up."_ I didn't do anything yet you guys fed me and let me stay here all day. _"

"It's not neccess-"

Chan was cut off by Minho's sending a stern, tight-lipped look from behind Jisung. The store owner disappeared into the back briefly before handing Jisung a damp sponge and towel.

"Thanks." His face carefully blank, Jisung sat his things on a bar stool next to him before walking over to the mess he'd made.

A couple minutes later, Jisung deemed the door clean. (Possibly cleaner than he'd first seen it, but that's irrelevant.) Turning in place so that he could duck down and scoop up the remains of the dessert, the student nearly caused another incident. Both of the baristas were knelt behind him, with matching supplies. A bucket between them showed the floating remains of the chocolate pie and Jisung could only stare at it- wordlessly transfixed.

"...I said I'd clean it up." His voice came out quieter than he meant it to, but the others were close enough that they heard his wavering voice clearly. Following even more softly, "it's the least I can do." _ It's the only thing I _ can _ do. _

Minho, being the closest to Jisung, dropped his sponge into the dirty water, wiped his hands on his apron, and inched slightly forward. Consciously realizing his slight height advantage, Minho smirked as he lifted the dejected boy's chin with a single finger. Normally, he wasn't a person who randomly touched others- especially ones that he barely knew- but something about Jisung told him that words, alone, wouldn’t be enough.

"Hey."

A (sad) hum of acknowledgement came from the younger, whose eyes were cast off to the side.

"Are you okay?" No response. As he expected.

Minho removed the finger from Jisung's chin and proceeded to flick him- _ lightly! _ \- on the nose. _ It works on cats so it must work on humans too (shrug). _

Jisung startled, grasping his abused nose and fixing the elder with an incredulous look.

"No. My nose is _not_ _okay_. What was that for??"

Maintaining an expression of seriousness, Minho tilted his head to the side, settling his hands on his hips as he leaned further into Jisung's space.

"If I want to clean my own cafe, I will."

From the ground, an indignant Chan added, "I'll remind you of that next time a guest dumps their espresso all over."

Jisung, too shocked to be amused, preoccupied himself with wiping away the suds he had transferred to his nose. (Surely, his nose was cleaner than it had ever been with all the rubbing.) After rubbing the skin nearly raw, _ I must look like Rudolph, _ the youngest made an effort to look everywhere _ but _ at the other two. Which was pretty hard due to him being completely surrounded by Minho, Chan, and a now sparkling wall. So, he scrubbed at the floor with renewed intensity. 

Minho waited for Chan to finish- without acknowledgement- before continuing in the same authoritative tone, "and if I want to let a stray boy sleep in my cafe, I will. Now take Chan's advice and go home." The elder's eyelids fluttered a second, before his entire being softened and he muttered, "to an _ actual _ bed. Not the park."

Jisung choked, too many emotions clogging his vocal chords. A mental argument of his cot not qualifying as ‘an actual bed’ died before it even started.

He managed a stiff nod before dropping his sponge and hurriedly gathering his belongings. Rushing out of the shop, Jisung tried to ignore the intense looks that were locked on his retreating form. Unceasing shock flooded his veins the entire way home, fueling him to run faster and faster, to the point he forgot about putting his shoe back on. 

Back home, Jisung was on auto-pilot. 

Kicking his remaining shoe off at the door, the student dropped his backpack in a corner and washed up as best he could. Mildly recognizing that his left sock was now extremely dirty and nearly shredded, Jisung groaned. Sometime soon he'd have to get new shoes and socks. _ Before _ his classmates- or _ worse _, the teachers- had the opportunity to comment. 

But that just meant even _ more _ missed meals.

He could barely afford _ food _right now. Let alone...clothing.

His mom was absent again. A note taped to 10,000 won was left on the kitchen counter. It explained that she lost one of her jobs- _ again- _ but would return with a new one, "no doubt!" 

Something like this would’ve probably alarmed anyone else in his situation. But, they had been through this before. (Not that the timing wasn't absolutely shitty, this time.) His mom would, undoubtedly, become a ghost in his life as she struggled to provide for herself _ and _ maintain Jisung's education.

When he was younger he often suggested dropping out to pick up a (or a couple) full-time job(s), or even pick up a part-time after school. But, he needed his mom's permission and the response- except during the summer months- was always "Sungie. We've talked about this. Your future is the most important thing right now. We can't jeopardize it." Jisung had heard the speech- and the arguments that followed- so much that he could recite it to her before she even said his name.

Thankfully, his birthday was coming up later this year. _ And _ he'd be out of high school in just a few months. _ Everything will get better, soon. _

For now, Jisung focused on setting up his for the much needed sleep. He couldn't help but notice the dirt covering nearly surface of the shack. Even himself. And there seemed to be at least one hole in every piece of fabric-save for his uniform. At least he managed to keep his clothes clean while he was cleaning up, though he felt a strong pang of remorse at the state he had left Minho in. Jisung definitely owed the owner an apology. And probably more.

The weather wasn't _ too _ bad yet, but it was enough to raise goosebumps along Jisung's body as the air '_screeeed_' through the holes in the walls. Pulling a smelly fleece blanket over his body and not bothering to change out of his uniform (why would he want to wear something that would inevitably be as disgusting as the rest of that place), Jisung curled up and fell into a dead-sleep almost immediately.


	6. Hellevator

To Jisung's despair, his sleep didn't last long. The sounds coming from all around him were so riotous that Jisung was startled out of a rather pleasant dream (of cakes a world made of fluffy sweets).

The yells and flashes of light were coming from various directions. Some were low and primal while the majority were ear piercingly high pitched. It was stressing Jisung out. Like one of those raid videos he'd been forced to watch in his history class. He could easily imagine one of those pairs of heavy footsteps effortlessly kicking down the flimsy door and wrecking the closest place he had to a home. It wouldn’t take very much to completely level the entire structure.

A quick check of his clock made him groan. It was minutes after midnight. On a friday.  _ What in the world could possibly be so import- _

"FIND IT!"

"It can't be that hard!"

"Cats are nocturnal, aren't they?!"

"CATCH THAT LIL' BITCH"

_ Oh. _

_ That's why. The competition _ . 

Whyy they decided to search in one of the town's poorest areas made no sense to Jisung. The cat was supposedly the pet of some rich guy?girl? right? So why would it be in an area where there was never enough food for even humans to survive on?

Jisung shoved his ratty pillow over his head, in hopes it would block at least some of the racket. 

Which it didn't.

But with the knowledge a raging horde wasn't after  _ his  _ head-  _ that poor cat _ \- he drifted off into a fitful sleep. 

  
  


The racket didn't die down throughout the night. It never got easier for Jisung to sleep. He jolted awake every time one of the yells were too close or the pounding steps were too loud.  _ How are the others dealing with this? I can’t be the only one that can’t sleep.  _ And he "woke" to his alarm later that morning in an awful mood. 

The residual awareness about the state of his living environment didn't make it better. Nor did the chill in the air that seemed to seep right through his uniform as he all but ran to the school locker room. 

It was quickly becoming impossible to ignore the empty ache in his stomach. Memories from the day before and the amazing cake that he had just... _ ruined _ . surfaced, but Jisung pushed them away with practiced ease. The too loud echoes of the tennis team and their awful hunting plans were making his head pound. The (thankfully warm) water pouring over his frozen skin felt like needles. 

Everything...was  _ too much. _

Somehow, Jisung dragged himself mechanically through his morning routine, making sure to scrub extra hard at his skin to get rid of any remaining filthiness. Too bad he couldn't wash his existence away with the same tenacity.

Jisung may have gotten looks from a few curious tennis players as he slammed his locker closed with an overly heavy sigh. He wasn't in the mood care. 

The day passed that way. 

Sitting at his desk in the production studio, Jisung felt a minuscule amount of stress fade away. The familiar setup quieted his thoughts as he settled in. Still, the weight on his shoulders was far too heavy to disappear  _ that _ easily.

The day may have been a blur, but the studio was one place Jisung  _ knew _ he could get out his thoughts. So he did. 

During lunch, Jisung mapped out a couple different beat patterns.

In his composition class, Jisung wrote lyrics. For the beats he made- and beats he had yet to make. Jisung poured the entirety of his heart out through free period until the minute Mrs. Kang kicked him out. 

If he had felt hyper-stimulated that morning, Jisung felt a complacent (maybe, even apathetic) calm taking over his body. When he walked out into the darkness, headphones comfortably forcing him into silence, Jisung was empty.

His thoughts? on paper.

His emotions? on paper.

His worries? on paper.

Himself?  _ Empty. _

It felt freeing as Jisung wandered to his park, not bothering to acknowledge the normally cute puppy that followed him along its yard.

Unsurprisingly, there were psychos around every corner. Even in his state, it was hard to ignore them.

Some were fairly normal, just groups of teenagers (and some adults- still in their work attire!) creeping around offering treats and baby-talking every other shadow. Others were frightening; carrying around nets and contraptions that looked like they could harm full-grown bears.  _ Do they really need to go to that extent? Just for a competition? _

It seemed like the borderline-frantic humans had taken over; undoubtedly, scaring any and all smaller animals away within earshot. Hell, they would’ve scared  _ Jisung _ away if he had anywhere less frightening to escape to.

Jisung walked for who knows how long. There was no way he would be able to sleep with the rambunctiousness occurring in the  _ rich _ neighborhood. And if it was like this in a neighborhood that people  _ actually _ cared about, his own area was probably just short of concert level loud. Granted, the 'competition' was  _ supposed _ to occur in  _ this _ area.

With the way that there had been a building nervous- but excited- tension at school during the week, Jisung doubted there were any places in the town that were quiet and restful. He pitied the local families. And more so, the cats that had the unfortunate luck of being black and  _ not _ 'the special collared one'. If anything happened to  _ his _ cat, he would be nothing short of rampaging until he found the culprit.  _ Life shouldn’t be played with so uncaringly. I don’t care what the rewards are.  _

The houses lining the streets all looked vaguely the same with their brick fences and fancy, technological locks.  _ His _ place was lucky to have the door seated properly within the 'frame'. The name plates all displayed fairly normal names- some that he recognized from his classes. Jisung couldn't help but notice the distinct differences in the lives these 'normal' people led. If  _ they’re the _ norm... _ what does that make me? Subpar? Less than human? _

He let his thoughts run wild as he turned through random streets, turning sharply as soon as he encountered another human. Jisung was in no mood to deal with some crazy trying to catch a cat for 'fame and fortune'.  _ I just want to sleep. _

The moon was shining bright in the sky before Jisung's feet started slowing, sleep and hunger slowly dragging him under. A light breeze pushed a chilled breeze past him every so often, but the tall houses around him guarded him well. Overall, it was the most calm he'd felt all day.

And it just  _ had to be ruined _ . 

At around 10pm. And in an area known for its excessive cat population- _ that’s what happens when you throw out more food than you eat- _ there was a dog loose. 

And it was by no means out for a peaceful evening stroll.


	7. Law of Madness

At around 10pm. And in an area known for its excessive cat population- _ that’s what happens when you throw out more food than you eat- _ there was a dog loose. 

And it was by no means out for a peaceful evening stroll.

Not knowing very much about dogs, or how to approach them, Jisung felt blood rush to his head and his anxiety spike.  _ What... the fuck...am I supposed to do? _ He halted, in an attempt to assess the situation.

The brown and white dog was only about his knee's height, but all of the hair along its back was puffed up and it was ducked low to the ground. At a crosswalk a few feet from Jisung, it swung its head back and forth, sniffing at the ground.  _ Can it smell me? _ It didn't seem to care, if it did. 

Jisung's breath caught. The dog froze, tail stuck straight up as it growled lowly at something around a corner. Jisung couldn't see what it was, but from the tone of the animal, it couldn't be anything good.

It felt like if Jisung blinked, he would miss whatever was about to happen. Tension froze his muscles as the dog began prowling forward at an impossibly slow pace. 

A loud screeching followed seconds later as a black shadow streaked towards Jisung, leaping deftly up the wall mere feet to his right. The cat settled, tail swinging in a clock-like fashion as it gazed down antagonistically at the now aggravated canine. 

Directly under the feline, the beagle? Spaniel?-  _ why am I even trying to guess- _ barked obnoxiously, pawing and bouncing off the wall. The effort was fruitless- the walls around this area were so tall that Jisung  _ might  _ be able to reach the top if he leapt with all of his strength. The cat seemed to know this very well as it merely watched the situation unfold.

A hiss from the exact opposite side of the alley snapped Jisung out of his trance.  _ Another one? I guess it’s true that dogs really don’t like cats. _ He’d heard altercations in his neighborhood before, but never witnessed any first hand.

With a deep breath, Jisung approached the barking animal.  _ Do I just grab it by its body? _ Surely it couldn't weigh  _ that _ much. It was pretty short. But then again, he wasn't  _ that _ strong, either.  _ Maybe it's collar? But wouldn't that just hurt it? And then my hand is right by its mouth...What if it bites me? _ Jisung didn't exactly have access to any supplies he'd need to clean a bite wound.  _ Especially _ , if it got infected or the dog had some random disease.  _ What if it has fleas? _ The dog looked fairly groomed and the collar looked rather new; then again, he'd seen plenty of humans that were comparable and behind the masks? complete sleazes.  _ Fuck it. _

Instead of trying an aggressive tactic, Jisung settled on physical intimidation. He'd learned somewhere that if you encountered a bear, you needed to size up and unnerve it. _ If it works for bears it has to work for dogs. (Right?...right?!) _

Deciding to act quickly, before any residents could wake up (he was  _ still _ not in the mood to deal with people), Jisung rolled his shoulders back and cautiously- but confidently- strode towards the animals. The black cat maintained it's arrogant posture, its eyes freakishly reflecting the yellow light of a nearby streetlight. 

Jisung focused on the dog (while hoping the cat didn't mistake him as a target and decide to jump him from it's height advantage). The pupper seemed to be entirely focused on the feline, up until the moment that Jisung's shadow cast over its head. He towered over it, unmoving. The canine let out a sharp, high-pitched whine and jumped out of range. It's hackles raised even further as it bared its teeth.

The last animal to enter the scene revealed itself, a long-haired calico. It was locked onto Jisung, its postured mirroring that of the dogs.  _ Two- three?- on one? Hell no. I DID NOT SIGN UP FOR THIS. I JUST NEED YOU GUYS TO SHUT UP. Go home and eat your kibble or whatever. I don’t want to be mauled in some back alley. _ (He couldn’t didn’t have-  _ and couldn’t afford- _ the resources to  _ recover _ from being mauled in some back alley.)

From above Jisung: a low, guttural growl resounded through the alley (and his headphones); louder than any of the sounds the other two animals had made.

Silence. 

Jisung maintained his posture; but, stiffened as a chill ran down his body, as if he’d had frozen concrete dumped on him.  _ Why does this have to happen to _ me _ ? _ His day really wasn't going well. And now he was caught between some animal street-fight. Surrounded on all sides (AND heights). Some sick part of his brain praised him for not just passing out from all the stress.

In his peripherals, Jisung saw both cats move at the same time, sauntering tentatively towards each other until they met in the space between Jisung and the frozen (but less aggressive looking) dog.

His gaze follow them. They seemed to communicate through mystical cat senses that Jisung had no hope of interpreting. The two seemed so different:

One being long haired, meticulously groomed and fluffy, with tan and white patches spanning its body;

While the other was a shiny black, slim, with a contrasting silver- almost white- rhinestone collar hanging around its neck. Dia...mond collar….?  _ Those stones. are definitely diamonds. or some type of rip off- wait. THAT'S THE CAT. _ THE. CAT.

Shock filled Jisung. Of course, he'd run into the most wanted animal (in probably the entire country?). On the  _ first  _ day of the competition.  _ And  _ it was in the middle of some street animal face off.  _ No way in HELL am I getting in the middle of this. Those rewards are NOT worth having my face scratched off. Much less if my body’s going to end up in pieces in some random alley. Fuck. No. _

The cats circled each other, gradually decreasing the distance. If Jisung was afraid of breaking up an animal fight  _ before _ , there was  _ no way _ he was interrupting a flurry of cat claws. He'd heard how vicious alley cats could be. Especially on his nights he'd spent sleeping in the park.

Jisung let out a shaky breath, trying to conjure up some magical plan that would get him out of the area unscathed.  _ People think they're going to catch  _ this _ cat? Goooood. Luckkk. _

The second he picked up his foot- as careful and silent as Jisung tried to be- the attention of all three animals snapped to him. The dog hunched back down, rear in the air with its tail pointed straight; the calico merely froze, regarding him with guarded caution; and the black cat was the quickest to react, taking advantage of the situation. It closed the distance to the other feline.

And…

_ nuzzled _ it?

Two tails intertwined briefly with nearly-silent meows (evident to Jisung only by the minute movements of both cats jaws). They separated, as if they'd been planning it all along, and leisurely padded off in opposing directions.

Jisung watched the calico bat its tail at the dog's face, surprised at the non-aggressive huff the canine responded with. It conceded easily, turning to follow the cat down the alleyway Jisung had originally seen it stalking down. Neither animal glanced backwards.

The black cat, on the other hand, was twining itself through his legs. It's tail wrapped and unwrapped around Jisung as he carefully placed his foot back on the ground.

Sliding his headphones to his neck- not that it really mattered, it just felt more polite- Jisung spoke in as clear a tone as he could, given his parched throat, "hey, buddy. I'm not sure what you had going on there, but I'm glad you're okay." 

Jisung lost his willpower. He bent down slowly, dropping onto his knees as he held a hand out for the cat to sniff. It backed off, tentative, but quickly leaned forward to rub against Jisung's open palm.  _ This guy's really affectionate, huh? _ Not what Jisung had expected after what had just occurred. Jisung made no further attempts to touch the feline, not wanting to bring back its (rather scary) aggressive nature. "You should really go back home now, though. There's a bunch of weirdos out here and I'm sure your owner is worried about you." A small, humorless laugh. "Even if they basically did sacrifice you."

The cat growled. It's tail smacked against his thigh more forcefully than previous taps.

"Hey, hey. Don't get mad at me." 

In a smaller voice, "I didn’t do it to you… I don't get how someone could do that to their own pet." A snort. Or a sneeze? Jisung had no idea what that sound was supposed to be. "Bless you? Anyways. It's late. I hope you get back home safely. I'm going to...go." Jisung stood up and the cat backed away a few steps, peering curiously at him, its tail swiping across the black top.

Pulling his headphones- his safety blanket- back over his ears, Jisung brushed stray dirt off his clothes and hands. Before turning to wander back in the direction of the park, he gave the shining creature a last sad smile. "Stay safe, lil buddy."

  
  


The bench in the park was just as cold as he had expected it to be. There were more people out and about in the area than Jisung was comfortable sleeping around, so he eventually relocated to the familiar enclosure of the tube slide. Part of him had felt too exposed on the bench- not only to the elements, but also the high likelihood of law enforcement meandering around looking for any 'competitors' that may be disturbing the peace. 

And he hadn't been wrong.

The moon was still up when Jisung was startled awake by a bright flashlight blinding him. If the slide hadn't been completely enclosed, Jisung would've cleanly flipped out onto his feet and taken off. But, he unceremoniously fell out onto his head. His upper limbs took a few seconds to untangle themselves from the straps of his backpack; but, his legs had him up and bolting away before he could even register his headphones flying off. 

The sounds of a large person pursuing him made Jisung run faster than he was comfortable with.

He probably had a concussion due to his clumsiness. But he ran. And ran. Ignoring the burning in his lungs and the dull ache in one of his wrists, he ran more.

The grating yells of someone who identified themselves as a police officer and boisterously ‘ordered him to stop!’ bounced all around Jisung. It made his heart beat unhealthily and his brain roll around in his head.  _ This guy must’ve been waiting all night just to catch some idiot.  _ And of course, Jisung ended up being his unlucky target. It  _ really  _ was not Jisung’s day. Or, more appropriately, his week.

Luckily, Jisung knew the area better than most of its residents. 

He lithely dashed down car-filled streets and into narrow alleyways. Jisung was too focused on his own movements to look back; however, his pursuer sounded pretty tubby. Hopefully, he'd get stuck in one of the tight spaces and be forced to take a longer route. Jisung had no end destination in mind. He just ran. 

The occasional light from the policeman's flashlight provided him a better glimpse at his surroundings- not that the moon wasn't enough. The flashes revealed the familiar details that were ingrained into Jisung's mind from years of drifting around.

Gradually, his own footsteps became the loudest thing around him. Though, he still moved at a considerably fast pace for the amount of puddles and miscellaneous bins he was forced to jump over. The last thing he needed was to end up in jail or prison with no one to bail him out. There was no way he could handle some juvenile detention center.  _ I haven’t done anything wrong. _

Just as he slowed his momentum to a trot, his left foot clipped a metal trash bin-  _ how do those things still exist? _ \- and Jisung crashed to the ground, the bin falling on him in companionship. Something disgustingly sludge-like slid down his leg, pooling on the ground. Jisung shivered.

_ This REALLY. is not my fucking day. F u c k. This is my last clean uniform, too. And it's the weekend so I can't even go in and clean it tomorrow morning. _

As if his life wasn't completely fucking awful already, a door opened a few feet from Jisung. The light blinded him, immediately reminding him of recent events. Jisung's head was pounding. The first fall, the flashlight, the running, the second fall,  _ the trash can _ .  _ Can't I get a break here? Ever? _

A dark silhouette appeared against the bright background, blocking the light from directly landing in Jisung’s eyes. "It's you."

"Me." Jisung's wobbly voice reflected how awful he felt. The singular word made his head spin.

Footsteps neared. Light. Tentative.

The weight from the metal bin disappeared.

Random weights disappeared off of his body, and were presumably replaced into the upright bin. The rustling was loud. Jisung cringed, despite the relief of being freed.

"Are you ok-"

"Don't ask me that."  _ You don't want that answer. And, regardless, I think it's pretty obvious. _

"Yeah, it is obvious, but I figured I'd ask."

Hands slid under Jisung's armpits, hauling the entirely exhausted student to his feet. The student groaned.  _ How is it possible for  _ everything  _ to hurt?  _ Pain radiated from his head downward, making Jisung clamp his mouth shut from the oncoming wave of nausea.

Uncaring, Jisung leaned in to the person, accepting their support wholeheartedly. If they wanted to help him, they could do whatever to him because he didn't care anymore. 

_ I just want to sleep. _

"You can do that once you don't smell like stale coffee grounds." 


	8. Broken Compass & TMT

Uncaring, Jisung leaned in to the person, accepting their support wholeheartedly. If they wanted to help him, they could do whatever to him because he didn't care anymore. 

_ I just want to sleep. _

"You can do that once you don't smell like stale coffee grounds." A slight, light-hearted chuckle. "Come on, now. Either I carry you, or you help me, help you."

Slightly delirious, Jisung's head lolled back, resting onto the person's chest? shoulder? "Just leave me out here. It's where I belong." The mention of how  _ he _ smelled had Jisung sniffing the air. The stranger was right, the stale coffee was awful. But- "you smell too good to be near me." It was true. The (strangely familiar smelling?) person emanated an odor that was like soft vanilla infused with bits of fresh mint.

"And you could smell just like me if you help me get you inside." The stranger shifted his- the voice was far too deep to be a female’s- grip on Jisung. With a firm grip on the smaller boy's waist and an arm pulled over the other's shoulder, they made their way slowly inside. 

Jisung did his best not to be complete deadweight, but wasn't very successful. 

As soon as the pair passed the threshold, Jisung squeezed his eyes shut. tOO BRIGHT. FAR. TOO. BRIGHT. He stumbled, but was quickly caught as his saviour tightened their grip around his waist.

An excruciatingly long amount of time passed before Jisung was being slid down a wall onto a cold, tile floor. Head rolling slowly to rest against a corner, Jisung inhaled deeply, hoping to calm his ever-present anxiety and pains. The place smelled pleasant, _ clean _ , but he was cold. Shaking. And the increasingly cold spot on his leg wasn't helping.

"-y. Hey." The person was tapping Jisung's shoulder.

He hummed in response.

"I'm not going to take your clothes off for you, but you need to change. We have extra clothes. If you shower, you can change into them. It's not a big deal. But can you shower by yourself?"

He hummed again.

"Hey. I know it's rough, but I need a verbal response. And you're going to have to open your eyes. There's no way you can get around properly in here with them shut." Silence. The other continued in an increasingly worried tone: "are they okay? You didn't get anything in them when you fell, right?" Jisung felt feather-like touches swiping over his eyes.

Jisung groaned. The hand withdrew. The other man's voice was bouncing around the room and making his head hurt more. "Head hurts." Just two words made the intensity grow tenfold. Jisung whispered the rest through gritted teeth. "Too loud. Too bright."

A quiet gasp of understanding. The other whispered back, "of course. You fell pretty hard."  _ I know that. _ "Give me a minute. I'll be right back."  _ Not like I’ll be going anywhere. _

Any fucks Jisung had about personal safety and responsibility were gone at that point.  _ Any person that smells of vanilla can't be  _ that _ bad? I think? ...I don't even know what I'm saying. I'm so fucking tired. _

Head still against the walls, Jisung managed to slip into a light state of unconsciousness by the time the man returned.

The door clicked open then closed, the lights turned off, and Jisung became instantly more awake. He had enough survival instincts alive that he knew it wasn’t smart to doze in a place with someone he didn’t know. He kept his eyes closed, however. Very little was worth experience  _ that  _ pain again.

"Okay. That should do it. You should be able to shower by these. I left the clothes on the sink, so whenever you're ready, go ahead and shower and I'll be outside. And if the water doesn't start in 10, I'll come make sure that you're not passed out or something, okay?"

Jisung nodded- or tried, to.

"Alright."

Unfortunately for his headache, Jisung  _ did _ end up being shaken awake exactly ten minutes later. But, positively- and the only positive thing to happen recently- was that he was able to open his eyes and not be excessively nauseous when awoke.

Jisung breathed in sharply. 

First, at the state of his precious uniform: it was beyond ruined. Even in flickering candle light, Jisung could tell that his normally pristine white button down was splattered with bits of chocolate and coffee grounds accompanied by some sporadically placed rainbow sprinkles. Even his already dark navy blue pants were several shades darker. A jagged rip in the pant leg from the day’s too many falls was complemented by other smaller rips that along on his jacket.

"Hey. Let's get you cleaned up, yeah? We can worry about the rest later, okay?"

Jisung's gaze snapped to the man knelt next to him, warm hand still placed on Jisung's shoulder.  _ Chan. _ Of course it was Chan. 

Mysteriously warm and welcoming, but strangely trustworthy. Jisung wasn't in the least surprised that this boy would pick up some random stranger and pamper them. It just seemed so... _ him _ .

"Hi."

Chan was no longer whispering; raising his voice slightly to speak in a hushed tone.

Slightly awestruck, Jisung slowly dipped his head, "hello."

"Are you going to be able to shower? I can get you a chair or something- if you need it."

"No, uh." Jisung cleared his throat. The sound grated against his ears. "I- I'll be okay."

"Alright. Then. Same as before, I'll be right outside if you need me. Soaps and everything are labeled right above you, towels are on the rack, and clothes are on the sink."

Jisung nodded again, eyes moving to each of the locations Chan pointed out to him. 

After the other left, Jisung began carefully peeling his tattered clothes off one article at a time. He made sure not to move  _ too _ fast, for fear of getting dizzy, nauseous or worsening his headache.  _ Wow...I’m...a mess.  _ At the very least, Jisung ensured that he wouldn’t fall again- by remained on the floor the entire time while he was changing.

But turning on the shower. That was a feat of its own. He'd never been drunk (alcohol’s expensive); but, Jisung imagined that he was maneuvering equivalently to a severely hungover person. It would’ve been rather funny if he weren’t in an injured state.  _ And _ the one injured.

Starting from his knees, Jisung pushed himself up- shakily- onto all fours, then used the wall in front of his head to clamber into a standing position. His body ached. His leg was so cold it stung. His right wrist couldn’t handle very much pressure. There was so much wrong that Jisung didn't even know what incident to attribute each pain to anymore.

Heavily supporting his body against the far wall, Jisung turned the shower head towards the perpendicular wall so he didn't immediately get covered in ice water as he started the shower. And ice water it was. For the first few minutes he stood there, he was completely miserable as the spray from the unheated water hit his frozen limbs. His legs and feet were definitely the worst at this point- they were an ugly dark red verging on purple.

Eventually, the water did heat up- not too hot, he didn’t want to shock his appendages- and he was able to make his way through a full shower routine. 

_ Chan was right. _ Jisung found himself truly smiling slightly for the first time that awful day. The body soap which was distinctly minty, left his skin feeling cool and tingly. And the hair shampoo and conditioner were a warm vanilla scent that had Jisung fighting for consciousness- yet again- as he leaned heavily against the wall. 

Three soft knocks on the door. "Hey, are you okay in there?"

The steam seemed to help Jisung's vocal chords as he surprised himself- and probably Chan- with a clear "I thought I told you not to ask if I'm okay." Maybe the comment was too harsh for someone who had quite literally picked him up off the street, but it was too late to take it back.

Thankfully, Chan didn't read into it and laughed lightly, relieved, at the liveliness of his rescue. "When you're done, there's food out here for you. I figured you might need something after... all that."

Not wanting to say "thank you" without Chan being able to see his complete sincerity, Jisung called out a (forcefully) bright: "I'll be right out then!"

Chan’s bright laugh could be heard as he retreated from the door.

It turned out that drying off and changing into the slightly oversized khaki pants and white t-shirt was -combined- a harder task than standing up and showering. His aching muscles were previously numbed by the warm water stream; but in the cold, there was nothing to buffer the pain impulses going to his brain.

However, the promise of food was too strong. Jisung pushed through the pain and got dressed. Pushing his hair around into a shape that he figured was somewhat presentable- the mirror was too fogged. Jisung wasn’t about to leave streaks across it just so he could see!- didn't take long. But the acknowledgement and acceptance of the pristine white surroundings and gold plated fixtures came more quickly than anything else today.

_ Seems like I keep ending up here...somehow. _

Jisung was gently led by the elbow to the familiar conference room. The lights were still too bright for him. Chan had jumped up and rushed over at the sound of the bathroom door opening, much to Jisung’s relief. He didn’t really want to face.. well...  _ anything _ alone right now. 

The cafe was empty...  _ as usual? How do they stay open with so few customers… although... it  _ is _ probably past midnight. _ Thinking so hard made the pressure in his brain return, so Jisung left the thoughts for another day.

The room was lit by more of the candles, a fact that warmed Jisung’s heart.  _ Why is he being… like this? What did I do..  _ Jisung tried to recall any significant interactions that he’d had with the blond barista, but only drew blanks. (He  _ had _ just decided not think thing so hard.)

Sat in two of the white chairs opposite each other next to the head of the table, Jisung and Chan both took to eating the food the elder had prepared.

The meal turned out to be heated canned soup and some leftover chocolate chip cookies. Jisung went from cautiously accepting (with unwavering reassurance from Chan) to being passed a water bottle because he was choking. Internally, Jisung was shocked at his own ability to eat so fast, given that he was using his non-dominant hand. 

"Easy there. It isn't going anywhere." Chan cautiously raised his gaze to meet Jisung's embarrassed one. "And neither are you." That statement sent Jisung into another coughing fit. 

_ He can’t mean it in the way I think he does. That’s ridiculous.  _ ** _This is a cafe._ ** _ A business. He doesn’t even know... me.  _ ** _Not a home_ ** **.**

"Of course, I'll have to talk it over with Minho. Since he's the owner. But, I'm sure he won't object. Everything gets busier around this time and Minho's going to be busy for a while due to a business project, so we could use the extra help."

The door, which Chan had left propped (in case any customers were to enter), opened slightly revealing a sliver of light and a contrasting, small black body. Jisung squinted at the bright light, but was able to make out a familiar, shining collar that glittered in the candle light. The cat paused in its movements, raising its head to sniff at the air, before continuing- uncaring- to the black chair on Jisung's left. It hopped up and walked in circles before settling in a ball directly in the middle of the fluffy surface.  _ A cat? In a cafe? Is this a cat cafe? Wouldn’t surprise me. Isn't that unsanitary..? _

"Don't mind him. He comes and goes whenever he wants."

"Ahh..." Still not quite understanding the situation, Jisung just nodded, mouth closed tightly and eyebrows scrunched together.

Silence, apart from the clinking of dishware, fell on the pair as they finished the meal. Jisung was done first by a far margin. He kept looking at the cat since there wasn't much else to occupy his attention in the room. The darkness outside concealed any view of the environment he could possibly have had and it seemed considerably more awkward to stare at a human than a resting animal. Questions about the competition rose to the tip of his tongue; but, Jisung withheld. The last time he'd brought it up in this very room, things had not ended very pleasantly. 

Chan's breathy chuckle resounded through the room.

"If you're gentle, you can pet him. He's quite cuddly once he gets to know you." The light hearted smirk and encouraging nod from the elder had Jisung wiping his left hand on his pant leg before cautiously reaching over to the black feline.

His heart was beating as loudly as when he'd been running away earlier. The cat already knew him. (knew  _ of _ him?). It didn't seem to have a violent nature (usually?), even if it  _ was  _ arrogant.  _ It'll be okay _ .

And it  _ was  _ okay.

The cat acknowledged him no more than moving its head juust slightly into Jisung's hand.

And that's all it took to have Jisung completely smiling. All pain temporarily forgotten. 

Jisung stayed that way for a bit, entirely focused on the feeling of soft fur slipping through his fingers. It was a lot different interacting with the cat in an environment where he wasn't on edge, wondering when some psycho may come and attack it (them?).

"Hey, there." Chan's soft voice carried away from Jisung, directed to a newcomer who slipped through the doorway. Jisung jumped slightly as he pulled his hand away, surprised to see so many people in one room at such an off-time (and in what he thought to be a deserted cafe).

"Jisung, this is Woojin. He works here, too- he's the other one on shift with me, right now." Chan gestured at the newcomer, eyes shining. "Woojin, this is Jisung." Realization passed through Woojin as he looked at the smaller boy. The boy who was most definitely wearing  _ his _ clothes. 

The two elders traded a silent conversation between them. One Jisung was able to watch like a tennis match, but understood nothing. Just like an actual tennis match.

Woojin seemed to be dominating. The newcomer wore the standard cafe uniform, completed with dangling golden earrings and white sneakers. He looked like the embodiment of "studious, responsible, and well put-together". It was far more intimidating than the other soft, but stern auras of the two other workers he'd met. Especially, the way his light brown hair fell perfectly, not a hair out of place. Jisung's hair had never looked  _ that  _ silky. 

_ I bet he goes to a salon. _ Forcing his eyes down to his lap in shame, Jisung immediately felt bad about his thoughts. It's not  _ their _ fault, these guys were able to take advantage of the luxuries money provided them. He was glad they used them. And used them well. Jisung didn't envy them. He made due with what he was born into. And  _ that  _ was  _ that _ .

The newcomer cleared his throat. "As he said, my name's Woojin. it's nice to meet you, Jisung." An unnerving, "I've heard a lot about you" hung in the air, but went unsaid.

The elder walked forward and extended his hand to the sitting boy, a small, genuine smile taking over his face. 

Jisung stared for a second, unmoving, before rubbing his hands on his pants and taking the elder's comparatively large one in both of his. 

This wasn't his place. He must be as polite as possible. 

"It's nice to meet you, as well, Woojin." He bowed his head, before releasing the elder's hand and looking up at him. His welcoming smile transitioned into something far more sad. Woojin stepped back to address both the boys.

"I'm just here to pick up the dishes, I figured you were about done." Chan was nodding, appreciative. "Is there anything else you guys need?"

Jisung shook his head. No need to cause more trouble. Chan had already done more than enough. There was no way he'd be able to repay him. Or Minho, for that fact. Or, Woojin.

"Could you get us a couple water bottles?" The one in front of Jisung had been empty for a while and Chan’s was just about empty. Woojin nodded, stacking the used dishes in his arms before leaving the room.

Jisung stared at Chan with wide eyes. "I hope those are for you and the cat. I really can't impose more than I already have." Chan leaned forward, resting his chin on crossed arms, watching Jisung curiously.

"I'll return these clothes. In a couple days? Is that okay? I can get them back to you tomorrow if you'd prefer, though it might be in the evening... and I'll find a way to repay you for the foo-"

"Jisung." Even the cat was staring at him, now. His skin itched from anxiety. He hated feeling indebted to people. It made his heart feel tight and the sustenance filling his stomach feel like rocks. 

"What did I tell you?" Chan's voice was stern. Even dropping a couple notes under its usual pitch. The change sent goosebumps up Jisung's arms. And worse, he knew exactly what Chan was referring to. He wasn't able to leave. They wouldn't let him leave.

"I'm not going to lock you in here. But. I'm also not going to have you being chased around the streets by some fat police officer, either." Jisung bit his lip at the memory. "If you decide to leave, at least let us clean your arm up first. Please." So Chan knew about the entire situation. Of course he did. Chan seemed to know everything.

"I don't know why you were in that situation, but I'm offering you a stepping stone to a fresh start." Maybe the elder paused for Jisung to collect himself and respond. Neither of which occured. A tear slipped down Jisung's cheek as he stared to his lap. With a quick look- even through blurred vision and flickering candle light- he could tell that his wrist was definitely battered. The scrubbing in the shower hadn’t cleaned it. Not enough, at least. There were still bits of black stuck in the bloody scrape marks. Tears fell onto the cuts, stinging. But Jisung didn’t do anything to move.  _ Couldn’t _ move.

How did Chan notice, but Jisung hadn’t?

_ This can't be real. You don't know me. I don't-. It's a trick. A joke. A- _

A warm body leapt onto his lap. Jisung jerked as the cat's tail flippantly hit him in the nose before it curled up in his lap, snout forcing its way in the middle of his twisting hands. Effectively trapped, the boy was too scared of moving for fear of triggering the feline. He wasn't in the mood for dealing with any more strong emotions. Be it his own, or an animals. Though, he was failing at that exceptionally.  _ Way to go, Jisung. _

He  _ did _ jump, startling both him and the cat, when an arm slid around his shoulders.

"It'll be okay. Maybe not now. But it  _ will _ be." Jisung stiffened. That's what he always told himself, but recently? nothing was working out. Chan continued, squeezing the younger closer and rubbing his cheek along the top of Jisung's freshly washed hair, "you can always find me, yeah? I'm not gonna leave you behind. I won't let  _ you _ leave  _ yourself _ behind." Someone-  _ Chan _ \- kicked open the flood gates. 

Jisung was ugly crying. Harder, more blubbery than he had in an extremely long time. 

And Chan held him the entire time.

Shaking and sniffling as he recalled all the recent- and some not so recent- hardships that he  _ did nothing to deserve _ . 

Getting over himself was fairly easy, until thoughts about the cafe workers crossed his mind. The free food and drinks. The happy smiles. The person who picked him up off the street to literally shower him with warmth and affection. 

Sometime during the ruckus he'd been causing, the cat had swiveled around, its head buried into his spasming stomach. It's tail rested along his arm, tapping gently. Almost rhythmically. It gave Jisung something to focus on, outside of the thoughts swirling around his head.

Jisung pulled himself together shortly after he realized that the position definitely had to have been hurting the elder's back- he was standing hunched over for Christ's sake. (or, more properly, Jisung's sake). But they stayed that way until Jisung completely quieted, drained.

Chan pulled away after a couple minutes of Jisung calming. The younger winced as the barista stretched, his back cracking in far too many places to be healthy. 

Jisung perked up, hyper focused on the bell that announced a customer entering the cafe. He could hear Woojin politely greeting them, taking, and crafting their order. And soon enough, they were gone. Silence took over the building save for the sink Woojin was most likely cleaning the used wares in.

Jisung slumped back into the chair, tension releasing with a heavy sigh.

Chan spoke as he placed one of the two water bottles-  _ great. Woojin had probably seen me like that. I probably look awful now. _ \- in front of Jisung, "it's Sunday, today. Do you have anything you should be doing today?"

He had some homework, but Jisung was in no mood to even look at a textbook. He shook his head, gaze locked onto the cat he was now delicately petting in his lap. He smiled slightly as it stretched in it's sleep and began purring lightly.

"I'm glad he likes you. He's pretty picky."

Jisung spoke quietly in a horse tone, his throat scratchy from the crying, "what's his name?"

Chan froze, but quickly recovered. His expression was carefully masked as he replied with a neutral, "Lee."

Jisung ignored Chan's strange behavior. Taking his chances, he cautiously pulled his arm out from under the cat. Grasping one of it's - _ super soft and cute, omg~!- _ paws, Jisung shook it up and down. "Nice to meet you, Mr. Lee. I'm Jisung. Thank you, for earlier. I really appreciate it." Chan figured he was talking about the waterworks until Jisung added an even quieter, "that dog was pretty ..scary."

The cat pulled its paw away sharply, tucking it underneath its body. Jisung was completely sure he'd fucked up. Pissed off the animal. Probably was about to get pounced on and mauled. But, it simply nosed against his stomach and resumed purring.

Chan let out a breathy laugh. "Wow. You really are lucky, there." Jisung didn't get a chance to question the elder, as he slipped out of the room with a brief "I'll be right back."

With nothing else to occupy his time, Jisung slid down into the chair, resting his head against the low back, legs sprawled out. He took another chance with the relaxed feline and move his hand down its back, petting along the length of its entire body. It purred louder.

The student chuckled as he continued the action, transfixed on the lines his fingers left in the cats silky coat.

_ Who would sacrifice a cat like this? And where is it's owner? It's a lovely pet....and they just set it up to be chased and tortured by weirdos. _ Annoyance flared in his stomach. He wanted to talk with the owner. Reprimand them for volunteering such an animal for such an awful task. Chan had to know who- the purring turned into a deep growl. 

Jisung stopped his hand. He'd unconsciously been petting harder and harder, the further he slipped into his thoughts. Sleep was pulling at him stronger every minute he was left alone and he'd lost control. "Sorry, Mr Lee." Jisung removed his hand, placing it on the side of the cat, softly cradling it.

Chan returned a couple of minutes later, a pile of cushions in his arms. It was so tall, Jisung could only identify the barista by the familiar cushiony white shoes. The sight had Jisung crossing his legs under him. He didn't have any shoes on. His own had been covered in coffee grounds and completely torn up from the rough running he'd put them through. The socks- borrowed to him by Chan- though, were fluffy and warm around his feet.

Chan returned a couple minutes later, a pile of black cushions in his arms. It was so tall, Jisung could only identify the barista by his familiar cushiony white shoes. The sight had Jisung crossing his legs under him. He didn't have any shoes on. They were covered in coffee grounds and completely torn up from the rough running he'd put them through. The socks- borrowed to him by Chan- though, were fluffy and warm around his feet.

Chan dropped the pile into the corner of the room with a solid  _ thud _ . Clapping and nodding to himself, the elder made short work of setting up the futon, even going to the extent of tucking in the comforter on the wall side. Jisung could only watch, speechless. He didn't want to assume anything, for the sake of getting his hopes- that shouldn't go in that direction, anyway- up.  _ That can't be.. _

"Yup! This is yours! Well at least for now." Chan fluffed the black pillow before settling it at the top of the bed. He turned to Jisung, noticing his open mouthed expression. "If you'll take it, of course. I should've really asked first. And it's kind of weird and black? These things are usually white aren't they? But Lee's fur is black and Minho doesn't like having fur everywh-"

It was Jisung's turn to stop rambling. "Chan. Really. Thank you. It's more than enough. Thank you. For everything." The sincerity in Jisung's word silenced the elder, who only stared at him.

Abruptly, Chan stood up. He walked to the windows, where the sunrise was casting a myriad of colors into the white room.  _ It’s already dawn, huh? _ After drawing the last shade shut and blowing out the candles, the pair was thrown into darkness save for the light coming through the still-open door, Chan turned to Jisung. The shadows hid half of the elder's face, causing him to look far more old and wise than Jisung was used to.

"You're welcome, Jisung." He moved the door, grabbing it to pull it shut behind him. With a shockingly happy smile thrown over his shoulder, Chan gave him the remaining information for the morning: "don't worry about sleeping too long, or being an inconvenience. We rarely use this room and no guests are allowed in. And  _ anyway _ , if someone  _ did _ come in here that wasn't Woojin or I, I'm sure Lee will protect you." Chan's eyesmile crinkled up impossibly more. "I told you, right? He's really picky." The door was almost shut when Chan popped his head back through. "And whenever you wake up, just come get me or Woo; we'll be here all day." The door shut.

_ What kind of shift lasts all day? _


	9. My Pace

"Whenever you wake up, just come get me or Woo; we'll be here all day." The door shut.

_ What kind of shift lasts all day? _ but thoughts from his last meeting with Chan reminded him about the barista's habits:

_ "I'm usually here for day shift...or just hanging around the place." ....... "you can always find me, yeah? I'm not gonna leave you behind." _

Jisung sat in silence, stunned. The tension in his body released slowly, only to be replaced by soreness and an uncomfortable pressure radiating in his skull.

Feeling it'd be entirely more rude to refuse the effort Chan had-  _ for some reason _ \- put into making him comfortable, Jisung slowly slide his body out of the chair. Lee jumped away when the angle became too steep, padding away a few steps to watch the student with curious eyes.

The bed was set up mere feet away and Jisung found it easiest to just crawl over on all fours. As soon as he was close enough, he side-rolled into the awaiting bedding. 

_ Oh my god _ .... Jisung felt the air just leave his lungs. Everything bad that had happened recently? It was almost worth being able to sleep on something  _ so fluffy... _ . He rubbed his face into the pillow, taking note of the lack of holes and stains everything else that differentiated  _ his _ pillow from this lovely cloud. 

Perhaps, the best part of the entire set up was the smell. The entire cafe radiated a standard, clean, coffee and pastry smell. But  _ this _ , this was  _ cinnamon _ mixed with something else that seemed to filled Jisung's entire body with warmth and calmness.

Jisung was out before he could even pull the covers over his body. But it was okay. The padding seemed to envelop him like a butterfly in its cocoon. If he'd ever felt a sense of home- that was it. Just him, in a dark room next to a now bustling cafe.

When Jisung woke up, he wasn't even sure if he was awake. Everything felt so foriegn, like a dream that was so outlandish he could never have come up with it, himself.

He panicked a little at the weight largely hindering his body- and flinched at a loud hiss when he nearly rolled over onto Mr. Lee who had been tucked into his side- but quickly settled into the warmth the comforter provided. A sensation he hadn't experienced in a while. Jisung fidgeted for a bit- further annoying Mr. Lee- but stilled once his feet were sticking out. (What? He was sleeping in  _ socks _ . His feet were hot!)

The ruffled cat rose and stretched, making Jisung laugh as he watched the lump in the blanket move in the dim light provided by a crack in the curtains. Mr. Lee sauntered along Jisung's side up the blanket, freeing his head right as he sneezed into the boy's armpit. At the relatively loud noise, Jisung jumped, drawing his arm away from the cat. 

Jisung shifted onto his side, propping himself on his elbow. (And getting his  _ other _ arm out of range from Mr. Sneezy). A tan bandage was wrapped around his lower right arm, something that must’ve been done while he was asleep. It wasn’t too tight or loose. The student scoffed, shaking his head in incredulity. Like they hadn’t done enough for him. And now this, too.

_ I wonder who did it, though.  _ Who did he need to thank?

"Good morning." He began petting the cat down its entire body, chuckling at the low purring the quickly resonated in the room. "Did you sleep well? I did. For sure." They stayed that for a while until Jisung voiced his thoughts further, feeling rather pressured by them, "Chan said I should go get him when I woke up...but I don't want to bother him. He's working and- and...I don't know. This is already so crazy." His voice had faded into a whisper, but he kept talking. Finally, he was able to organize his feelings. Normally, he would've just poured them out into his lyric book. But, right now, there were too many of them. And it was increasingly becoming harder to discern what was causing him the most discomfort. (Not to mention, his dominant hand was out of commission.)

"It's just...like... I don't know. The competition's got so many creeps out on the streets... And it's pointless to go back to the shack. It's so loud now and there's basically nothing there anyway...not even running water. I'm not even going to be able to clean my laundry at school like normal. It’s way too dirty… and nothing is going to take out those coffee stains. And my pants are all ripped up.." The student drew in a shaky breath, scratching at a particularly soft spot the cat seemed to enjoy. At least he was able to repay  _ someone _ for what they'd done for him. "And mom hasn't been home in forever...I don't even know if she's found another job yet..." A heavy sigh. "I guess..those are problems are for later. I'm going to go back to sleep, lil buddy. My head still hurts." Jisung winced as he rearranged his legs into a more comfortable position. "My legs aren't feeling too great either." An arm under the pillow and the other resting around the body of Mr Lee, Jisung nuzzled his head into the soft fur and mumbled a soft "g'night" before slipping back into unconsciousness.

Unconsciousness that didn't last very long. Less than an hour later Chan was kneeling at his side- again- shaking Jisung's shoulder until he cracked a bleary eye open.

The student immediately groaned at the overhead lights which had been turned on, throwing an arm over his eyes.

"Hey, now. Come on. If you don't get up, your food is going to get cold. And you definitely need to eat."

"Are you always going to persuade me to do things with food?"

"It works, doesn't it?"

"...yes."

Chan laughed quietly, "well come on, then. If you want to wash up, the bathroom is down the hall. It's the only room down there. Pretty hard to miss."

Jisung groaned. He felt significantly better- body wise- but was still very groggy in the mental department. Sacrificing one eye to the lights, Jisung navigated his way out of the conference room without looking back. Normally, it was hard for him to reach an operating level of awareness; but for food, the student was forcing his body to wake as fast as possible. And no better way to do that than a quick splash of water on the face.

His fuzzy socks slid silently along the wooden floor. There were a few people hanging about at tables in the cafe, but Jisung didn't give them an opportunity to notice him as he turned the sharp corner to walk down the hall, uninjured hand tracing the walls lightly for support. 

Locking the door behind him, Jisung took in the room (now fully coherent). The bathroom was in pristine condition- no sign of blood or dirt or any trace that Jisung was sure he left behind this morning. No less than he should be used to expecting from the establishment. It was a legitimate one person 'bathroom', complete with a standup shower, toilet, vanity and a towel rack housing precisely folded white and gold towels. The gold details all shined beautifully against the immaculately kept whiteness. And amidst all the brightness, there was black bag on the counter with a small note attached on the handle.

** _"For Jisung (:"_ **

With a slight frown on his face, Jisung opened the bag. 

Another note was resting on top, folded neatly, the handwriting more bubbly than the other.

** _"Jisung,_ **

** _You remember what I told you right? You didn't forget already did you~_ **

** _Well anyways. Theses are yours now. I hope you're not allergic to them._ **

** _There's a med kit under the sink._ **

** _And feel free to use whichever towels!_ **

** _If you need help with anything, we're right down the hall!_ **

** _~Channie_ **

** _P.S. I hope you don't mind putting those clothes back on, Woojin is still working on your others. Sorry for the inconvenience! :/"_ **

Water dripped onto the sheet, making the ink spread, revealing a rainbow of colors.  _ What inconvenience?  _ I'm _ the inconvenience. You fools... _ Sniffling, Jisung carefully refolded the note and tucked it under the bag. Body soap, shampoo,  _ conditioner _ , face wash, moisturizer, first aid paste- at the bottom there was even nail clippers, a razor, deodorant and lotion. With each of the items lined up along the back of the counter, Jisung's vision was blurring.  _ All...mine? _

Since things had started getting harder, he had been forced to get creative with things like razors and clippers. The soaps he had been using were typically...well.. one soap that just goes everywhere.

Jisung stripped quickly, eager to take his first proper shower in ...years?

Biting his lip to keep the tears at bay, he gathered the appropriate supplies- taking care not to mess up the wrap that he had left on his arm- and sat them along the wall of the stall. After closing the curtain and waiting for the water to heat, he stepped in cautiously. There was a myriad of cuts along his elbows and lower legs from that  _ stupid trashcan... _

Thankfully, the shower last night had cleaned them fairly well- except the part that someone else had taken upon themselves to take care of last night, which he held above his head- and he was able to deal with the stinging fairly well. Even better, the warm steam seemed to cause the majority of his remaining headache to dissipate. 

_ I wonder how many people live like this... And how many don't _ . He'd learned the answer to the second part of that first hand concerning  _ this _ city, but Jisung was thinking about the large scale.  _ How many people live in lavish houses that could easily house 20+ people while others live stuffed in the equivalent of garbage dumps? _

Snapping open the bottles robotically, Jisung forced himself to relish the present luxuries. The water wasn't harsh and came down just enough to feel like a massage- something  _ else _ that he'd never experienced. And the smells of the soaps all were subtle and matching, like the residue in the air from plants after a rain. Jisung's hair became ridiculously soft after he rinsed the conditioner out-  _ maybe even as soft as Woojin’s!- _ and it was hard for Jisung to resist running his fingers through it as he shut the water off.

Jisung smiled, giggling softly as he ran his hands over the smooth texture of the nearest towel. (May as well revel in it before he started to drown in his debt. He’d already come this far.) The student wrapped the hand towel on top around his head and patted his body down before tying the larger one around his waist.

_ Even the rug is fluffy... _ Jisung wiggled his toes, laughing aloud as his feet sank quickly into the white, anemone-like mat.

The mirrors were all fogged and part of Jisung was grateful- he wasn't quite prepared to see his body (and happiness that would leave as quickly as it came, inevitably). Unpracticed, Jisung attempted to shaved what scruff he had and applied the creams appropriately, thoroughly caught up in watching them quickly disappear into his- apparently, very dry- skin.

He didn’t even think about messing with the wrap, which he had been very careful not to disturb. It was done almost professionally and Jisung’s medical skills were nowhere near the level to replicate the job. If anything, he could ask the elders once he finished to see when it would need to be changed.

By the time Jisung redressed and left the room, he felt nothing except pure giddiness. The student all but skipped to the front counter, uncaring of any patrons could be in the cafe.

As he rounded the corner to turn right he slid to a stop as he took in the scene before him, eyes wide. Chan. and Woojin. Chan and woojin.  _ CHANANDWOOJIN. _

Hugging.

Casually.

Because friends  _ totally  _ back hug each other casually and whisper into each other's ears.

Quickly deciding to blatantly ignore the situation, given that neither of them had noticed him and there were (unsurprisingly) no customers to witness the scene, Jisung redonned his bright smile and skipped over to the opposing side of the bar, a couple feet from the pair.

"Morning~!"

Chan jumped, his cheeks turning bright red. Woojin, on the other hand, smiled softly and tightened his hold on Chan's waist.

Woojin was the quickest to respond, "it is farrr past morning Jisung." The student glanced to the windows and back. It was definitely some time into the evening. "But, good morning." All three of their smiles deepened.

Memories of his-  _ absolutely amazing _ \- sleep resurrected. "Where's Mr. Lee?" Jisung’s expression dropped slightly as he thought about the animal going all day without food or water. And it was all his fault.

Chan placed his hands on the counter, shrugging uncaringly, "don't worry about him. He comes and goes as he pleases. Maybe he went home for the night."

A silent "oh" formed on Jisung's face and he nodded in understanding. It fascinated him how outdoor animals were able to wander the streets, but always remember where their home was.

Chan continued, "I talked to Minho."


	10. Road Not Taken & Entrance

"I talked to Minho."

Jisung tensed, crossing his arms over his chest. "He agreed."

"Wait, what?" Everything stopped.

"As long as you don't work more than half-"

"SERIOUSLY?!" Jisung all but screamed. He'd thought for a long time about getting a job, but all of them required his parents permission. His heart sank, a frown on his face. "Wait. I can't."

Across the countertop, Chan's eyebrows shot up while Woojin mirrored Jisung's expression.

Jisung spoke before the others had a chance of ‘convincing’ him, "it's not that I don't want to. I really, _ really _-"

"Then do it." The front door had been propped open to let in the cool evening breeze. None of them had heard him enter. Minho leveled a serious gaze on Jisung as he walked over to the counter, stopping at the register. "Strawberry ice cream."

A soft, "spoiled" from Chan was masked by the sound of Woojin swiftly detaching himself to walk into the back room. 

Still focused on the younger, "we need more help. You're here. So do it."

Jisung, slightly flustered, proceeded to finish his earlier statement: "It's not that I don't want to. But jobs require guardian permission. And my mom won't let me. I've already tr-"

"So we don't tell her." _ We. _ Minho exchanged a look with Chan. "We don't have to tell _ anyone _."

Minho's statement made everyone look at him in skeptical shock.

Woojin reentered, sliding the ice cream- in a_ striped mug?! _\- across the counter to an overly-delighted Minho.

The cafe owner pulled over a nearby chair and flopped down lazily, body spread out to take up as much room as possible. "You." He gestured at Jisung with his spoon- "sit."- and then at the chair on the other side of his table. Mechanically, Jisung shuffled over. Pulling the chair out delicately, he sat down on the edge with his back awkwardly straight. "Good."

On the other side of the counter, Woojin and Chan were next to each other again. Leaning on their forearms, they were staring at the sitting pair as if they were about to pull out some popcorn and enjoy the show.

Minho's voice brought Jisung's attention back. "You can start tomorr-"

"I have school."

A glare had Jisung shrinking into his seat. _ You interrupted me first _ , Jisung internally pouted. "Stop interrupting me. I told you before. I know more about you than you think I do. I know you have school. You can come here after you're done. Yes, legally you're supposed to have a guardian's signature for any job part-time or more." The younger was fidgeting. This is where all his past employment attempts had been halted. Or rather, killed. "However. We can call this a work-exchange or volunteering with extensive benefits. Whichever you prefer." _ What? What does he mean? _ "We can work out the details later. I just need you to agree that you want to do this." In a tone far less business-like, Minho added, "you just need to agree that you're willing to do this."

In the background, Woojin and Chan were chorusing statements like "we'd be glad to have you" and "the only skills you really need are not putting ice cream in the wrong mug and you'll never be fired."

Jisung was on edge. Both physically and mentally. Here he was. In foreign clothing. In some richee's cafe. Showered, being fed-

"OH!!" Chan's exclamation startled everyone. Well, everyone except Minho, who merely looked at him with an eyebrow raised, arms crossed over his chest. "I forgot your food!! JISUNG IM SO SORRY~~" The elder was whining, rubbing his hands in apology. Woojin patted his friend's back. The blond barista all but sprinted into the back, returning seconds later with a tray.

Sliding it in front of Jisung carefully, the bowl with multicolored contents caught the attention of both seated parties. Rather than ask what the soup? stew? was, for fear of seeming ungrateful, Jisung merely leaned over and sniffed it suspiciously. It smelled...chickeny. And the noodles inside looked insanely appetizing. The steam warmed his face pleasantly; bits of something green were floating aside carrots, creating a kaleidoscope of colors in front of him. That was, until a silver spoon dipped into the broth, ruining the visual aesthetic.

Following the spoon to the awaiting mouth, Jisung gulped. Raising his eyes slowly from the elder's lips to his pleased, crinkled eyes, the student felt his expectations for the meal rise. "It's good. Try it."

A small part of Jisung- the stupid, young, and rebellious part- wanted to take the spoon from the elder's mouth and feed him more of it just to watch his expression melt at the taste again. The realistic part that won picked up the chopsticks next to his bowl and eagerly slurped down a large portion of the noodles in one go.

It took him at least a minute to refocus on the outer world- the minute it took to finish off the noodles- and find that the rest of his company were all cooing at him. _ Even Minho, _ who had returned to his slouched position, was smirking. Feeling moderately embarrassed, Jisung gently put down his chopsticks on a napkin. 

Behind his hand- which did _ nothing _ to muffle the comment- Chan whined a "oh myyy- _ Wooojinnn _! He looks like a baby squirrel! You see it don't youu?" The blond practically draped himself over the eldest, who merely nodded in amusement.

Jisung stared at them, eyes wide and cheeks pink.

"Channie made the soup. Is it good?" Jisung nodded energetically at Woojin. He downed a quick gulp of water to wash down the rest of the noodles before replying back, "It's really good! Better than anything I've ever had!" Jisung looked to the ceiling in feigned thought before adding, "even better than my mom's cooking."

They didn't even need eyes to witness Chan's combustion. Thankfully, it was muffled by Woojin's shirt: "OHFDSKAHFSFASHHHMYYYYYYYYSOHHGNNNNNNN!! HESSSOOOOFUIFDKLASJFKCKCKCINGCYUUUUOOOTEEEEEDFASFSJAKFHSJDFALSDF!"

Woojin was chuckling and Minho did nothing more than roll his eyes.

"Ignore him. He'll be back to normal in 5."

"I don't know about that, Minho. He's been like this all day."

"G r e a t."

Redirecting at Jisung, who was sipping little bits of soup off of his spoon, Minho cleared his throat. "Anyways. I'm willing to be flexible if you are. You just have to say yes."

Jisung pretended to be deep in thought and put his spoon down, wiping his hands and mouth on one of the spare napkins. _ Really _ , he knew the answer. Whether he wanted to admit it aloud or not was a different matter. But from the second that Chan had even mentioned such a scenario, Jisung knew the answer. But, he _ was _ scared of what it entailed. He couldn't afford a nice uniform- let alone work clothes. And he's never had to..'customer service' people. He struggled enough talking for long periods during his classes. _ Even worse _, he couldn't pronounce over three-quarters of the cafe’s menu.

Minho, growing tired of watching the younger stare blankly at the table, reiterated his question: "yes...or no?"

His vocal chords weren't working. "What was that?" Minho was leaning forward, trying to catch the slightest answer coming from Jisung. "...yes." The student looked up, squaring his shoulders and sitting straight once again. "I'll do it."

Whooping in the background alarmed a potential customer who had just set a foot into the establishment. The alarmed business woman quickly pivoted out of the door and all but sprinted out of sight.

Leaning back and crossing his legs, unimpressed, Minho looked at the pair who at least had the decency to look slightly ashamed. "Well then. For starters. Don't do _ that _."

Jisung giggled, covering his wide grin with his hand. He relaxed slightly now that the tense business-like atmosphere had been disrupted. 

"Or _ that _ ." The student lowered his hand, sending a questioning glance to the cafe owner. "This place may be beautiful in itself, but if its workers _ keep scaring customers away _ then it won't exist anymore. It needs a little sunshine." 

Jisung's mind blanked. Three thoughts consecutively crashed through his brain:

_ They've scared _ other _ customers away before? _

_ Wow. He definitely has a lot of pride in this place. _

_ Does he mean that...I'm...sunshine? Or is he just saying that because it's night right now? _

"So, Sunshine," _ oh. me. I'm the sunshine _. "we'll go out tomorrow after you're schooling and pick out a uniform that fits and get you anything else you'll need. Sound okay? Okay."

Jisung was given zero opportunity to agree or disagree. The owner seemed to take charge of his schedule. _ What exactly did I just agree to? A job? or giving my life entirely away? _

(Not like his life was going to well of it when ‘he’ was in charge of it, anyway. Oh well.)

Woojin's light tone interrupted Minho's planning: "Min. Chill. You're stressing him out and it hasn't even been two minutes." Chan stifled a laugh.

The accused closed his mouth, frowning and disgruntled. He ran his tongue over his inner cheeks in mock frustration, eyes on the ceiling, but said nothing more.

"I'm okay. Really."

Minho lowered his gaze, taking Jisung's entire being into view before standing and walking over to the counter. Leaning over, just inches from the pair’s faces he snarked: "see? He's fine. Nothing to worry about mom and dad."

The statement shocked Jisung, but the two baristas merely mocked their boss back, not missing a beat.

"I think _ you're _ the one worrying."

"Am I dad? Why can't we _ both _be dads?"

Jisung stood as well, feeling awkward being the only one seated. He approached the counter, taking up his spot where he had originally stood before Minho had made him sit.

_ Minho _. In an outfit that was starkly different than Jisung had seen him in before, suddenly looked...worn out. He bantered easily with the baristas, but there was something about his posture that made him seem so...out of energy? The sweats were basic but still looked sleek despite small patches of mud toward the bottom hems. And the loose t-shirt was extremely wrinkled with various small rips. Despite all the raggedness, he wore it well. As well as his normal work attire, if Jisung was being completely honest. (It seemed crazy that such drastic, opposing styles, could suit one person so well.)

Tuning back into the conversation, Jisung found the trio talking about someone he had yet to meet. During a short lull in the conversation, Jisung spoke up, desperate for an answer to his question:

“Who’s...Changbin?”


	11. Awkward Silence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enter two more of the cast.

Unsurprisingly, Chan was the first to respond after the three shared an unreadable look: "he's one of our friends. Sometimes he covers our shifts when the three of us are too busy."  _ So _ that's  _ how they maintain the crazy work schedule. They've got a fourth. _ And now that Jisung was supposedly working for...with? them, they had a fifth.  _ That's still not a lot of people.. I wonder why they don't just make the place have normal hours...24/7 is excessive with such little staffing... _

Continuing Chan's explanation, Woojin tiredly gesturing at Minho, " _ This _ guy is supposed to start his shift right now. But as you can tell"- a deliberate look to Minho that Jisung was unable to decipher -"he's not exactly...fit for the job right now. So Binnie will be coming in to cover for the night."

The couple unpeeled themselves from each other, and the counter, before wearily walking around to stand in front of a wide-eyed Jisung. 

"It was really nice to meet you Jisung.” A forced, but genuine smile. “I hope your wrist starts to feel better soon. If it doesn't, try icing it and I'll take a look at it when we come back later." 

Jisung smiled brightly and shook Woojin's extended hand with exaggerated carefulness. "So it was you, then? Thank you for everything... I definitely couldn't have done it myself." 

Woojin then mirrored the younger’s expression, nearly glowing from the praise. "Have a good night, Jisung."

Their hands dropped as Chan stepped up. "Don't forget to eat! and shower! and don't be afraid to ask anyone for anything! Especially Changbin. I know he's probably going to walk in here all grumpy- but don't let that shorty fool you. He's a big softy."

A snicker from behind Jisung was followed by a satirical "hyung, there's nothing big about Changbin."

Chan huffed, rolling his eyes. Looking at Jisung, his expression suddenly full of cautious hopefulness, he held his arms open.

Jisung's breath caught. 

Slowly, he approached and accepted the elder's embrace. Chan. And his minty vanillaness were delightful. No less than the first time Jisung had found himself in the man’s arms. Part of the student almost envied Woojin just for being able to constantly smell such a heavenly sent. Even if the bathroom soaps were similar, they seemed horrifically fake in comparison to the effect they had when combined with Chan. (Not that he would ever quit using them. It was just that Chan smelled  _ that _ good.)

The experience...felt so  _ human _ . The physical contact. The concern. The unadulterated affection. Jisung relaxed so much that he forgot to pay attention to what was being said. He could feel the rumbles of Chan's chest resonating through his cheek, but it did nothing other than make him smile softly. That was quickly solved by Chan dipping his head close to Jisung's ear, his warm breath lightly ruffling the shorter's hair. "Seriously, though. Ask for food. or water. or the first aid kit for your leg or wrist. Don't act like you aren't important. To yourself. Or, us. We're all here for you Sungie." 

The nickname was like a Jisung's personal poison. It burned through his body and lit his soul on fire. He'd never had any friends close enough to share nicknames with- and it wasn't just a mockery title from a jackass classmate. The warmth spread through his body and flushed his skin for the entire room to see. Jisung nodded into the embrace before stepping away, mildly embarrassed at the redness that was undeniably prominent.

The hospitable couple left the cafe hand in hand with promises of returning soon.

Unflattering slurping snapped Jisung out of his reverie, reminding him whose presence he was still blessed with.  _ Greaat...what am I supposed to do now? _

Turning slowly to look at the cafe owner, Jisung's awkward smile was met with a thoroughly unamused, raised eyebrow. The younger froze, smile falling the longer he watched the owner lick strawberry remains from his spoon. 

“Well,  _ I’m _ not going to hug you.”

Abruptly, Minho sat his mug onto the counter and walked towards the conference room. With a lackadaisical wave, he tossed a grumbly "take care of the place. Changbin will be here soon. Wake me up when he gets here." Jisung swore he could hear a “don’t break anything, or I’ll hide your decomposing body in an alley” tacked onto the end of the orders. 

The door clicked shut behind the owner before Jisung sputtered a shocked yell: "you can't leave me here, alone! I- I don't know anything about coffee!"

Without even opening the door and apologizing for his forgetfulness, Minho yelled right back- and  _ what was that tone?? Is he mocking me?? _ "'I don't know anything about coffee!'  _ YOU'RE  _ the one who said you'd work here! Do your job!"

Jisung looked around for anything that could  _ even slightly  _ help him. The machines all had to have owner’s manuals or something, right?? His mind ran a million miles an hour to find a solution for his lack of technical knowledge. _ Coffee making is technical, right? It’s like cooking? And cooking counts as a science...chemical reactions and experiments and shit...right?? _

_ I don't know anything about coffee. _

_ I don’t even  _ like  _ coffee. _

_ What am I supposed to say if someone walks in? _

Jisung, figuring he should at least be on the right side of the register, shuffled around to the other side of the counter.

_ I don't even know how to work any of these things. _

_ What goes into coffee? Is it just the bean water?? _

_ There's so many buttons. How does anyone remember what they all do? _

_ And this lever? What the hell is THAT for? _

_ I feel like this place will explode if I touch anything... _

He had a slight reprieve given that it was fairly late into the night and there seemed to be only a few stragglers running about. _If someone_ _does_ _come in, I guess I can just go wake up Minho. It's his fault that I'm up here, anyway_. 

Jisung anxiously watched the glass entryway. Every time that someone came into view, the boy tensed. It became an unintentional routine: see someone; tense up; realize how straight and awkward he was standing; slowly force each limb relax until they were loosely functioning once again. Repeat.

He eventually started keeping a mental tally of the potential customers:

3 senior citizens. One of them had this ugly red and green plaid vest on.

6 students.

A pair of people in all black who huddled together, walking in the shadows as best they could.  _ Creepy _ .

1 delivery guy who was a little  _ too _ wobbly on his moped for Jisung's comfort.

1 bright orange tabby cat.

And.. .A person wALKING THROUGH THE DOORS!?  _ OH FUCK _ . Jisung felt his heart drop. Breathing stop. Mouth drop open. Frozen, he watched the person saunter straight up to the counter and lean over it, face stopping inches from Jisung’s.

Jisung did his best to maintain a strong front. It was hard. The unwavering, amused, stare of the newcomer was intimidating. To say the least.  _ Who the he- _

"You're not Changbin-hyung.”  _ Way to state the obvious. _ “And you're not Minho, either.”  _ We don’t even look alike??  _ “So who are you? And why are you here?"  _ That's certainly a...bold introduction _ . 

Jisung took in the person's  _ beautiful _ appearance, eyes darting everywhere as he assessed the unfamiliar situation. Their dark brown hair laid perfectly-  _ another _ rich guy- and the birthmark under his eye did everything to highlight the high cheekbones and sharply angled jawline. It made Jisung envious.  _ How do all these rich guys just...exude wealth? _ He must just give off an aura of "poor" (or possibly even “super poor” with his recent encounters). Maybe that's why Minho, Chan, and Woojin had been so insistent on helping him.

"Well?"

Floundering like a fish, Jisung struggled to find the proper information for this stranger. He didn't seem like a person that it would be smart to lie to. And he seemed far too comfortable with Minho's name and the cafe, itself, to be the stranger he was to Jisung.

The bell on the door rang in the distance, causing the boys’ attention to fall on another customer. Who just....threw their bag behind the counter  _ and  _ stood next to Jisung?  **Too many thoughts to process to proper sentences** .

_ I should go get Minho-hyung. _

A cafe that  _ he _ was supposed to be watching over. Two starkly beautiful men. One out-of-place Jisung.

A glass of water was placed in front of the gaping Jisung, who was less responsive to the newcomers than a rock would ever be. The dark haired one snapped his fingers near the student’s ear, making him nearly jump out of his skin. Wide-eyed and retreating a safe distance away, Jisung's head spun as he tried to take in his environment.

_ Is  _ this  _ Changbin? He should be taking over, right? Chan was right...this guy...is scary.  _

The second person, with hair so orange it looked like it could be on fire, was practically a radiant ball of energy. As late as it was, it seemed completely impractical for  _ anyone _ to be so awake. Even though Jisung had practically slept all day, he very much felt like he needed another ten years of sleep before he could be expected to function properly. 

The most recent ...not-customer?... certainly was not the spiteful, small ball of angst that Jisung had been picturing.  _ Definitely not Changbin.  _ That description very much fit the first customer. The warm smile accompanied by a soft gesture at the water had Jisung melting. He robotically lifted the glass to his lips and nearly choked as far too much of the liquid slid down his throat. The other's fuzzy sweatshirt didn't seem to be quite...proper... for this type of setting, (neither did the dark haired one's tartan button down and skinny jeans) but somehow... it just worked. Even with the mint apron that was being tied over.

"You're Jisung?" The one in question had been watching the orange haired one with puffed cheeks- still trying to swallow the rest of the water. He had  _ seen _ their mouth move. But  _ how the fuck did such a deep voice come out...of a kid? _ The guy looked barely older than twelve years old but spoke like a Korean Morgan Freeman.  _ How. The Fuck _ .

The glass that Jisung had been washing slipped out of his hand and into the bottom of the sink with a harsh  _ thud. _ . Dark Hair swore at the sudden noise.

The sound -finally- shocked Jisung completely out of his stupor. Quickly picking up the glass, breath held, he inspected it for cracks. None. Thankfully. 

He wasn't even working yet. The last thing Jisung needed was to break things- with two seemingly hawk-eyed witnesses- before he had even formally started his employment. Though, that would suit his recent luck extraordinarily well. Finding solace in being able to focus on something other than the immediate- and extremely awkward- situation, Jisung began fervently cleaning the glass. They couldn’t make him say something, or do, anything stupid if he kept himself preoccupied iwth simple tasks.

Orange Hair frowned, not appreciating being ignored. "Hey." He reached an arm out to tap Jisung's shoulder. Bad move. Jisung jumped at the contact, dropping the now soapy glass. 

He cringed, waiting for the inevitable shattering noise.  _ Minho-hyungs’s going to kill me. _

No such noise came.

Cracking an eye open, Jisung noted the glass being carefully set on the bottom of the sink by Orange Hair, out of range from his clumsy actions. The dark haired one had a deep frown on his face, directly honed in on Jisung.

"You've got to be Jisung." The tone was one of finality, no question was in the glass savior’s mind about Jisung's identity.  _ How…?  _ Jisung's mind flashed back to how he must project his poorness into the rich cafe atmosphere.  _ Oh. _

Stepping away from the counter and as far away from the duo as possible, Jisung crossed his arms over his abdomen. 

_ It's amazing how Minho-hyung is sleeping through all this. It would be  _ even more _ amazing if he would come out here and deal with these people.  _

The deep-voiced ball of fire seemed to know what he was doing as he efficiently wet a soapy sponge, cleaned and rinsed Jisung's glass, and set it back on its shelf underneath the counter. After wiping his hands dry on the mint apron, a blindingly bright smile was directed at Jisung along with an extended hand.

"My name's Felix" Jisung shook his hand tentatively, lip caught between his teeth in strained effort to not implode. "You are Jisung...right?"

As he slowly nodded, maintaining eye contact with Felix, Dark Hair huffed impatiently in the background.

"You  _ can _ speak for yourself, you know."

Jisung turned his head to reply, thoroughly intending to enlighten the entirely too comfortable guy just  _ how _ capable he was at 'speaking for himself'.  _ Customer service be damned. I'd rather throw coffee grounds down this guys fancy ass shirt before I even  _ try  _ to make him coffee. _

_ OR _ , Jisung could just give this lanky dude  _ his own _ version of whatever complicated order he wanted.

Minho chose that moment to finally make his presence known. The door of the conference room slammed into the wall's door stop as the eldest grumpily made his way over. Dramatically, he flopped onto the stool nearest Dark Hair.

Jisung's heart leaped, sensing the immediate change in the room. Everyone was looking expectantly at Minho (who was groaning into his hands about 'just wanting to fucking sleep'). Even though it had probably been only an hour or two since he'd last seen the cafe owner, Minho's entire face was already swollen and flushed with what little sleep he  _ did _ get.

A small ounce of displeasure made itself to the surface of Jisung's expression was quickly pushed back down. Obviously the duo knew Minho. So, even if they were physically separated by the countertop, he would  _ still be okay _ . No need to stress over foriegn words and the thought of figuring out which button did what. (Even if Felix had made it pretty evident that he knew how to work in the environment, Jisung didn’t want to just ‘give up’. Even less so now that Minho was...somewhat awake.)

The loudest groan yet came when Minho dropped his hands and let his head drop to the counter with a painful, resounding  _ bang _ . With a lazy gesture to his left, the eldest spoke in a raspy, deep voice: "Hyunjin. Stop being such a dick." 

_ Hyunjin _ 'hmpf'ed, sticking his nose into the air as he turned his head away. Jisung was slightly amazed that he didn't argue or reply with some smartass comment.  _ So he's not Changbin. _ Part of Jisung was relieved. He didn't see how  _ this _ guy could be 'a big softy'. And whether the student wanted to acknowledge it, or not, Hyunjin was definitely… 'bigger' than him. He had at least three to four inches on him height wise. And the other's presence seemed to just… demand attention. Though, with Minho in the room, that was thoroughly subjugated.

Minho pointed in front of him, head still on the counter, at what he probably thought was Felix, but was  _ definitely _ directly at Jisung. "Felix."  _ Yep _ . Jisung raised an eyebrow. The orange haired one was giggling. "Don't fuckin' laugh at me." The eldest's words were mildly slurred and it was hard Jisung not to join Felix in laughter. "Where's Changbin?" 

Felix sobered enough to reply in a steady voice, "he's at the studio. He's been there all day.... I don't think he's going to leave any time soon, either."

Both Hyunjin and Minho murmured an unimpressed, "of course".

_ So Changbin's an artist? I wonder what medium he works with.. _

"Come on, hyung. I'll walk you home."

To Jisung's shock, Minho turned to Hyunjin and held his arms out.

"You've got to be kidding me."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it seems pretty slow, but it won't take much more to introduce the rest of the guys and get the plot rolling. Though it'll probably be more like pushing them off a plane than rolling down a hill ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯.
> 
> °˖✧◝(⁰▿⁰)◜✧˖°


	12. Mirror

"You've got to be kidding me." The tone was harsh, but Hyunjin was smiling as he bent down and allowed the eldest to slide onto his back. "OOF. You need to cut down on the ice cream." Minho relaxed completely, allowing Hyunjin to stand up with the entirety of his dead weight.

Felix, back to giggling, whispered not-all-that-quietly to Jisung: "he gets so cuddly when he's tired. It's kinda cute." Glancing between his company, Jisung wondered what  _ exactly _ their relationship was. All of the people he'd met so far seemed so different, but they blended together in such unique ways. Did he deserve a place in their collage? Jisung wasn't even sure  _ what _ his personality was. Aside from poor and clumsy, that is. What color could he possibly add to their already beautiful combinations?

Even with the added weight, Hyunjin made it to the door relatively fast, slipping outside carefully without even so much as a backwards glance.

"Don't mind Hyunjin. He's just got a lot on his mind right now."  _ And what gives him the right to take it out on me?  _ Jisung's face must have revealed his extreme disbelief because Felix shrugged and added: "really. He's not usually... so much of an ass."  _ That's the perfect way to describe him. An ass. _ Even if he hadn't known the guy for long, just the thought of him left a bad taste in Jisung's mouth.

Jisung leaned against the counter, preoccupying himself with looking at the confusing machines once again. He wasn't sure if he should continue 'working', or go home (and pray the craziness had died down), or just hang out in the conference room until morning, or something  _ else _ . And, of course, anything he picked would turn out to be the wrong decision. That's just how things were going as of recent times.

Much to Jisung's relief, the doorbell rang as a teen dragged their feet up to the counter.

Felix brightly turned around, asking the customer what they would like.

Without even scanning the menu, they tiredly asked for a "tall soy milk ...???... with caramel on top. And a slice of chocolate cake. To go." The middle part of the order was completely lost on Jisung. 

Felix jumped into action, swiftly swiping and returning their card and receipt before turning to Jisung. "Can you go get a slice of cake and put it into a take-out box? They're kept in the big fridge in the back." Jisung, not rude enough to outright refuse- or admit his complete ignorance of the facility- in front of a paying customer, nodded and made his way through the double doors to the back. His anxiety spiked as he walked, silently praying that he would quickly be able to find the cake (and not break anything while doing so). 

Passing into the kitchen was like being transported into a different planet. The rest of the cafe was entirely white and gold themed, warm and welcoming. This kitchen was the definition of shining and professional. All fixtures were immaculately polished stainless steel; the walls were matte black. Even the floor was dark-themed; some sort of black and gray marbleized rock. It reminded Jisung of an opened geode and he nearly felt guilty just walking on such a beautiful masterpiece.

Somehow, the perfection of the room didn’t surprise Jisung. How could he expect any less from Minho? Who seemed to live and breathe perfection? Not that Jisung thought he was perfect. The ass had left him on shift with a skill level of negative zero. More accurately,  _ negative zero squared. Hmpf. _

The refrigerator he was supposed to be looking for stuck out as the largest piece of furniture in the room. And Jisung, not wanting to waste time, pulled open both doors- still being careful of his healing wrist- to reveal a sight that made him salivate. Cakes and sweets of various colors were stacked on shelves to the right. To his left, there was a wide assortment of ice creams from the familiar strawberry to mint chocolate and a few labeled in languages that Jisung couldn't read. Everything looked more than edible.  _ I'm so glad I ate earlier. I feel like I'm gaining weight just by looking at all this. _

Remembering the waiting customer, Jisung pulled out a brown cake that was covered in little gold and silver balls and flowing strips of icing. (Because, obviously, brown icing= chocolate cake). It looked beautiful and was definitely chocolatey. No doubt. 

Setting the platter on the steel counters in an overly delicate fashion, Jisung only dared to breathe once he was able to completely take his hands away. (There was no way Minho would forgive him for ruining one of his creations,  _ even if _ Jisung was injured). Thankfully, the slices were pre-cut with wax paper separating them so it was easy for Jisung to carefully pull one out and set in a nearby, foldable box. It was obvious how to bend the pieces so Jisung made short work of the task (not forgetting to place the cake back in the fridge!) and was back to the front in no time.

The exhausted customer took the box with a small, appreciative smile and walked out of the cafe with a drink that matched the slice of cake.

_ First successful customer interaction.  _ Maybe,  _ just maybe,  _ he could do this. 

Jisung settled back against the counter, watching Felix rinse off the supplies he'd used to make the drink with. Impatient and curious, the student asked the question that was nagging his brain, "what was it that they ordered?"

Felix responded immediately, almost mechanically repeating the order, "it was a double chocolate mocha with caramel drizzled on top of extra whipped cream. Size tall. With soy milk."  _ What kind of size is 'tall'? What happened to the regular 'small, medium, large'?? _

The other was done washing and turned around, eye smile bright as he laughed at the confusion on Jisung's face. "A tall is basically a small. Don't ask me why they don't just call it a small. It doesn't make sense to me, either." Pointing at various stacks of cups behind Jisung, Felix continued, " from left to right, they're called 'short, tall, grande, venti,' and if someone is really trying to die: the 'trenta'."

Nodding in understanding, Jisung stared at the cups. There were white and clear ones and stacks of various colored lids next to them, it was dizzying. So many combinations were possible.  _ How am I ever supposed to learn all this? They made something so simple...stupidly complicated. Maybe I'm not cut out for this, after all.... _ Music, with all it's ins-and-outs, was easy for Jisung. There were formulas for everything- and with a little bit of effort- music fell into place easily. But  _ coffee _ ? Jisung had heard of decaffeination-induced horror stories. How rude and demanding the customers could be. How stressed workers could get. Especially during rush hours.  _ Not that this place ever gets  _ that _ busy _ .

"When did you learn all this?" He felt like a child. Everything in the cafe was new to him and felt like it would take years to properly master. How long would he be left to feel like an idiot?

"How about a question for a question?"  _ What could he possibly want to know about me? _ Regardless, Jisung nodded. Felix was by far the easiest to talk to out of all the people he'd met in the cafe and he wasn't about to let the opportunity slip through his fingers. "Okay sooo...favorite color?"

"Red." Felix looked unimpressed; but, gestured for Jisung to ask his question. "When did you start working here?"

The orange haired boy jumped lithely backwards onto the counter, landing right next to the register. He swung his legs back and forth, staring at the ceiling in thought, as he answered. "Hmm...a little less than two years ago? I don't come that often, honestly... usually just whenever Binnie-hyung gets busy." Jisung watched as the other cycled through multiple expressions, evidently reliving some good- and not-so good- memories. "How old are you?"

"18. My birthday just passed."

Apparently, this meant a lot to Felix because he suddenly jumped off the counter and covered the distance between the pair. The fireball was radiating enough energy to light the entire establishment afire. Taking both of Jisung's hands, he bounced up and down.

" _ Really?!  _ MY birthday was recent, too!! What day??"

"September 14th." Jisung was undeniably intrigued- and amused- as he took in Felix's overly-childish reaction. He didn't think there had ever been a time when someone responded to something he had said with such an intense passion.

Felix stopped jumping, suddenly deflating with a pout on his face. "Really?"

"Really, really." Jisung rose an eyebrow.

"My birthday's on the 15th."

Suddenly it all made sense. This time,  _ Jisung _ was the one to react gleefully. He felt his entire face light up with irrational happiness as he took in the slightly taller, carrot stick that was definitely his  _ dongsaeng _ . Jisung had never had a younger friend before.

... _ Friend? _

It felt like such a foriegn concept to Jisung. He knew of the stories in the media regarding what school-age relationships were supposed to be like: the frequent outings, study groups, having inane and deep discussions at all times of the day, and even the mysterious concept of staying over at friend's houses on the weekends. It wasn't something that had ever crossed  _ his  _ mind. All the things that he had missed out on. All the memories he could've created with the people around him.

Jisung had missed out on those opportunities, whether he'd realized it at the time or not, but  _ this _ . THIS could change all of that. So much had already changed in his life in the last week, what was  _ one _ more little part?

Pulling himself out of his introspection, Jisung found Felix staring at him happily, with concern leaking into bits of his posture and expression. He could do this. He could trust Felix. All he had to d-

"Would you be my friend?"

Felix,  _ bless his soul _ , didn't miss a beat in excitedly grasping the -uninjured- hand that Jisung had shakily extended to him.  _ There was probably a more proper way to do that. But, FUCK IT! A F.R.I.E.N.D! _

The other changed his grip on Jisung's hand so that it was held delicately, princess style. Dropping to one knee, Felix held their connected hands over his head, as if they were an offering. "I, Lee Felix, would be honored to have a friend such as you, Mr...."

"Han." Jisung supplied, bringing his loose (and bandaged) hand up to muffle his irrepressible giggles.

"Mr. Han Jisung. Will you have me, the lowly Lee Felix, as your trustworthy confidant?"

"For better, for worse."

"For richer or for poorer?"

"In sickness and in health."

"I do declare us:  _ The sunshine twins! _ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey~  
Just dropping another chapter because I'm in an obscenely good mood. Thanks to all who have and are reading this~ ✧٩(ˊωˋ*)و✧  
Felix! The (apparently most serious?) of them all has (properly) arrived! I love watching Jisung and Felix together since they have such opposing...states/ expressions of excitement irl?
> 
> °˖✧◝(⁰▿⁰)◜✧˖°


	13. Side Effects

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A fairly (really) short chapter, but it sets up the next one which...is a doozy.  
(Someone, somewhere plz hug Han Jisung) 
> 
> °˖✧◝(⁰▿⁰)◜✧˖°

The self-proclaimed twins spent the rest of the night exchanging questions and bits of information. Felix ended up talking considerably more, given that Jisung didn't have very much to talk about; but, it was comfortable all the same. 

At one point they'd gotten on the subject of education and future dreams. Jisung learned that the 'intimidating but smol' Changbin (Binnie-hyung! as Felix energetically declared) was actually a freshman at the university Jisung was hoping to get a scholarship for- in the same department, too! 

"You two _ have _ to meet!"

Jisung was anxious just thinking about meeting someone who had accomplished what he was constantly working towards. _ What if he's way better than me? Music is such an individualistic major It's not fair for us to compare ourselves...or for others to compare us? I wonder what kind of music he makes.. _ Apparently, Felix had no doubts in his mind that the two of them would get along.

They cleaned the cafe between the infrequent customers "because Minho-hyung is a bit of a neat freak" and Jisung slowly learned- or, tried to learn- the ins and outs of each machine.

It was around three when Jisung realized that he had school that day. 

_ Monday. Great _ . Good thing he’d completed the homework for most of this week, _ last _ week.

It’d be yet another day that he'd be forced to sit and stare at ugly walls and do his best to ignore his teachers and classmates as they tried to drill knowledge he already had into his brain.

He had inquired as to why Felix didn't go to one of the nearby academies. And was shocked to find out that Felix was actually _ Austrailian _. 

"That's so fucking cool!" Jisung could now identify the slight accent the other spoke with, particularly when he became the excited fireball he naturally was; but, overall Felix's Korean was _ shockingly good _.

For the first time that night, Felix had uncomfortably scratched his neck and avoided Jisung's gaze. "Actually, Binnie-hyung helped me out a lot when I first got here. Chan-hyung, too. Minho-hyung did in his own way...if you count making fun of my mistakes before correcting them as helping..." Felix's face was flushed, making the splattering of freckles stick out. He, like all the others who worked at the cafe, was uniquely beautiful. **Another reason Jisung didn’t fit in.**

Jisung cooed at the embarrassment, finding his twin to be incredible in his dedication to become fluent. _ It must've been hard _.

"It wasn't too bad... I had a family to support me. And I'm _ even more _ glad that I have my twin now, too!"

Some part of Jisung realized that Felix was calling him part of his _ family _ . The thought shook Jisung to the core. He'd done the right thing in befriending Felix. This wasn't just some one-in-a-lifetime interaction. They were in this shit _ together _. Whatever that meant.

A couple hours later, Chan and Woojin walked in (hand in hand, of course) to find the sunshine twins giggling over some joke that Felix had just told. Sleep deprivation was causing Jisung to be overly loose and comfortable around the younger, who had been a complete stranger merely hours ago. If the orange haired twin was opposed to how Jisung was practically draped over his side- laughing hysterically, now- he in no way displayed it.

"What are you doing awake, Jisung?"

Sobering quickly at the question that rang through the empty cafe, Jisung's head shot up. Locating the voice, which definitely came from Chan, he quickly took on a guilty expression. The all black outfit Chan was sporting- completely contrasting Woojin’s light blue sweater and khaki pants- only increased how intimidating he suddenly seemed to Jisung. Peeling himself off of Felix to stand straight, hands clasped in front, Jisung looked directly at his feet. There was still holed in his ratty shoes. _ Not even the too-long khakis could hide his shame. _

"I- uh-"

_ "DON'T YOU OLD GRANDPAS BULLY MY TWIN!" _Felix wrapped his arms around the shorter, pulling him flush to his chest.

Jisung tensed, not used to physical contact. Felix was warm. So warm, that if Jisung closed his eyes....he.. might.. just.... fall... a_s_.._lee.. . . p._


	14. N/S

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, this chapter...gets a bit rough. Not full on, but if you're sensitive to dissociation/ mentions of family issues/ EDs, then it'd probably be best to skip this one.

Chan sighed. "Lix, can you take him to the meeting room?" _ Make sure he’s alright. _"We've got a bed set up for him in there."

Felix nodded and carefully picked up Jisung, surprised at how light the older was. He'd been wearing baggy clothes- that Felix had definitely...seen _ Woojin _in before?- so it was hard to judge how much Jisung would weigh. Looking more carefully, Felix could see the sharp lines of the other's jaw and cheekbones. Unwelcome memories stirred in the redhead’s brain.

Carefully cradling Jisung- the elder’s head rested into the crook of his neck- Felix brought him to the dark room; taking care not to hit any part of the elder's body onto the door frame.

_ Minho-hyung's...? _ Questions spun through Felix's head as he deposited his charge carefully onto the bedding. He looked at the Jisung, wondering just how the other had come into their lives. _ What have you been through? And why is Minho-hyung so interested in you... _ Felix had a good feeling he already knew the answer to the latter question.

When Jisung woke up, he wasn't alone. 

The conference room was lowly illuminated; lit candles on the table were casting soft shadows and filling the room with the subtle smell of lavender. There was plenty of low murmurs of clinking coming from the other side of the door to signify that it was definitely still daytime. At the head of the table- in the big, black, fluffy chair- Felix was slumped over, completely asleep. And maybe drooling a bit. His twin hadn't left him.

Brief images flashed before his eyes of falling asleep in the cafe._ Did I actually fall asleep, or just completely pass out?? _

Jisung took a calming minute to sort out his thoughts and emotions, aided by the spicy cinnamon that lingered on the sheets. Realizing just _ where _ the scent had come from, Jisung quickly freed himself from the comforter- which was endearingly, but annoyingly, tucked around all of his body. Jisung sat up.

The rustling woke Felix, who merely cracked an eye open to take in Jisung's consciousness.

"G' morning, Sleeping Beauty."

At the nickname, Jisung sputtered. In the end, he couldn't find any way to defend his previous actions and settled for leveling his twin with a highly disgruntled frown. The other tiredly laughed, then groaned as he stretched. Sitting up, Felix pulled out the white chair closest to Jisung and gestured at it.

Not caring to put in the proper effort, Jisung crawled over and up into the chair. He sat there and merely blinked, unseeing, at the table for a good minute before Felix coughed. The red head was exaggeratedly looking between the table and the elder. Rapidly blinking a couple more times, Jisung realized there was a plate of fruits and crackers between them with two glasses of water. And (_ of course _), a note in Chan's handwriting directly in front of him.

_ **Sungie~** _

_ **I told you to ask for food! Felix told me you didn't eat all night. Please try harder to take care of yourself. If not for yourself, then for us. For me. Please.** _

_ **Anyways, Felix will look at your arm before you go out. Minho contacted someone who will take you out today to get what he talked about, so you should probably shower and get ready! I'm sure it'll be exciting.** _

_ **Hope you have a good day Sungie<3,** _

_ **Channie-hyung** _

Jisung's heart tore. Both from the disappointment he felt from Chan. He and Felix had been having such a good time talking all night that it hadn't even crossed his mind to eat. Especially, not after the dinner that Chan had given him. Worse was the apprehension of meeting yet _ another _ person. Sure, Chan and Felix were both lovely, Woojin to; but after his encounter with Hyunjin, Jisung was unsure that the (_even newer) _ person would take well to him. 

Plus, Minho had implied that _ he'd _ be financially responsible for whatever happened today... and if Minho wasn't there? How was he supposed to do anything? Not that Jisung wanted to take advantage of someone else's money, but the elder had not given him a say in the matter, for whatever reason. **How else was Jisung supposed to get himself out of his trash life? He’d be stupid to leave the chance behind. **It would be far more rude (and possibly even wrath inducing) to reject the ...offer? 

_ Everything feels disgusting. _

The anxiety gripped his stomach so hard that when Felix lifted a toothpicked grape up to Jisung's mouth, the latter shook his head and pursed his lips. His twin frowned. "Channie-hyung might actually kill me if you don't eat." Jisung looked at him with an overwhelming, unconscious, 'puppy dog eye'd face. He felt like he wanted to crawl back under the black bedding and be forgotten. Not like eating fancy grapes.

Felix's frown deepened, eyebrows drawing closer together. "Ji." _Another nickname_. No response. No acknowledgement. The blond haired boy was staring at Felix, but not truly seeing. "Jisung? You're scaring me. You need to eat. And shower." _I know._ _I knowIknowIknow._ "Do you want me to get Chan-hyung?" Still nothing. More to himself than to Jisung, Felix began muttering, running his hands through his hair, " I think I need Chan. Will you be okay if I leave, though? He'll be right in, I promise."

The chair _ screeched _ as the younger stood, but Jisung was still frozen in place. If Felix couldn't see his shoulders rising and falling with shallow, but slow, breathing, he probably would've just yelled for Chan. _ Customers be damned _.

More on reflex than conscious decision, Jisung reached out and caught Felix's sleeve before he completely passed.

Shocked, Felix turned around to see that Jisung's head was still blankly staring at where Felix _ had _ been. But the redhead’s nearly too-long sleeve was most definitely caught between the elder's thumb and index. "Ji?" Still no visible response. But Jisung had to be _ some _ level of aware to be able to execute that action, so Felix turned around.

Slowly and deliberately, the younger twin kneeled in front of Jisung. Similarly to how he had done earlier, Felix captured Jisung's hand in both of his. Barely louder than the crackling of the candles, he spoke: "Hey. You okay in there?"

At last, Jisung blinked and his chin fell to his chest, hair covering his eyes. Felix’s heart jumped, afraid for his twin.

"Ji? I need you to talk to me. I don't know what's wrong if you don't tell me. I won't judge... If you want, I’ll tell you something about me that no one else knows and then you can tell me what's wrong and I'll be the only one who will ever know. I promise I won't tell. Even if you think it's dumb, or something... It's not if it's bothering you this much." Felix was rambling, but he was trying to make sure that his point got across loud and clear to Jisung, who was clearly struggling. The two elders would probably be much better at this, but if Jisung chose to confide in him, then Felix would take pride in the trust that was built between the two of them. 

Mid-mental review of what he'd said, Jisung spoke. The voice was so low and quiet that Felix strained to hear it, even with his above-average hearing skills. "Don't...don't want to be a burden. I want to go...home."

Felix, lost his mental footing for a second. "Thank you for being honest with me, Jisung." In a forcedly lighter, but still hushed, tone he continued: "I ran away from home." Felix dropped his gaze to their hands, not wanting to see the inevitable reaction that people had when he told them. "That's not my secret. A lot of people know that...they juust...don't know why." 

The younger cleared his throat, trying to maintain his composure. Jisung was the one struggling. He shouldn't add to that. His story sharing was supposed to make Jisung feel more at ease. Brushing the negative thoughts away, Felix kept talking, trying to keep his voice from wobbling as he recalled the harsh memories. "I ran away because I couldn't take it. Everything was too much and I was always...not good enough. Not smart enough, not happy enough, not fast enough in tournaments...just... not good enough. It took a toll on me and....I had...issues. It was hard for me to sleep and eat and some days...I couldn't face people without immediate running away. There was always something wrong. So... I left. And I haven't talked to any of them since." Felix took a second to catch his breath, which he wasn't even aware he was struggling with. Jisung tightened his grip on their conjoined hands and Felix felt the strength to continue. "It's alright, though. I found my family here. There's plenty of people around that I love and am loved by. I hope one day that you feel the same, too. You're my twin, after all! You're part of the family, now."

Jisung huffed, a small sarcastic noise. His posture never changed, and neither did his grip, but he _ responded _. Finally. Felix felt the tension drip out of him; his body slowly relaxed onto the floor. Leaning his head carefully against Jisung's leg, the younger closed his eyes. 

_ Maybe it was just all too much. He just needs time to adjust. _

He'd been there. So he was more than willing to give Jisung the chance to come to terms with whatever was flying around in his head. Felix would be there until he was ready.

Several minutes, maybe even an hour later, when Felix had all but fallen unconscious, he felt small taps on his arm. Without moving, he felt his chest rumble with his sleep-infected voice, "are you ready now?" More taps.

Carefully, Felix stood up. Ignoring his right leg- which had _ definitely _ fallen asleep- he pulled a nearly-limp Jisung into a standing position. The other wobbled slightly, but was able to remain standing after Felix slipped an arm around the shorter's waist.

After they were steadied, Jisung slightly jiggled the hand still in Felix's grasp- _ that was bandaged _ ! Felix loosened his grip upon realization, but his twin only held him _ tighter _.

"Careful. Your wrist is still injured. I'm going to have to check that later, okay?" Another jiggle. "Okay." A deep breath. "Let's go to the bathroom, now."

Getting through the cafe unnoticed would be nearly impossible given that it was morning rush hour, but Felix would certainly do his best. For both of them.

Just as they were mere feet from the door- the combined pace being extremely slow- it opened. The bright light poured in, temporarily blinding the pair. The door was quickly shut and footsteps rushed over to the pair, the loud noises causing Jisung to cringe and shrink into Felix's side.

Immediately they stopped. A sharp intake of breath. And a small coo upon exhale. "Oh nooo. Sungie."

The wave of coffee and undeniable 'Chan Minty-Vanilla' washed over Jisung and had him quickly closing the distance between the two. Startled at the sudden motion, Felix just stood transfixed, arms falling to his side, as Jisung threw himself into Chan's arms.

Chan was also surprised at the unexpected action; particularly since seconds before Jisung had been shying away from him. Regardless, Chan immediately supported Jisung's weight and rubbed his cheek along the top of the younger's head. 

Chan shot a questioning glance to Felix, who just raised his arms in confusion. Jisung had given him a hint as to what was wrong; but, he wouldn't betray what trust he had just earned. It wasn't as if Felix _ knew exactly _ what was the cause of his twin's sudden negativity, anyways.

"Sungie? How about a shower?" Jisung nodded once into the elder's chest. 

Without taking his attention from the boy in his arms, Chan made a request that somewhat startled the one in question: "Felix, can I borrow your sunglasses? I'll give them back in a minute." Not one to refuse such a request, the redhead quickly pulled the sunglasses he always carried out of his back pocket and handed them to chan.

Wordlessly, the eldest placed the shades onto Jisung's face. Ensuring both arms of the frame were secured over Jisung's ears, Chan peeled himself away from the elder twin.

With an arm delicately placed over the shorter boy's shoulders, Chan tucked Jisung into his side, as Felix had earlier. In a voice so soft and full of concern that Felix had only heard him -_ RARELY _\- speak to Woojin with, his hyung continued: "Come on. Let's get you to the bathroom."

Chan opened the door and swiftly guided the empty boy around the corner. Making sure to guard Jisung -both physically and visually- from the curious onlookers, Felix swore he saw his hyung standing taller than he ever had before.

The youngest unfroze himself upon seeing how _ many _ people were in the cafe. _ We must be in the middle of the morning rush _.

Hurriedly rushing after the pair, Felix tried to keep his expression as neutral as possible. It was no one's business but their family's what had occurred this morning.

As they reached the bathroom seconds later, Chan leaned down to whisper something into Jisung's ear. The latter didn't respond but stiffly walked into the bathroom before turning mechanically around, eyes wide. Chan was already walking back past Felix, giving him a short "I'm grabbing clothes. Stay with him."

But Jisung. _ Poor Ji looks lost _. Without anyone to guide him, Jisung was just standing, looking completely absent-minded in the bathroom entryway.

Feeling the encroaching remains of curiosity on his back, Felix slowly stepped forward.

He spoke carefully, being as articulate and subtle as possible: "Ji? I dunno what Chan-hyung told you but you should get in the shower. It'll make you feel better." _ hopefully _.

A single slow nod was the only signal that Jisung had heard him.

Felix let out a long breath. "Do you ne-" -quickly, he shook his head and corrected himself- "want help?" It was blaringly obvious that Jisung needed help. But if he didn't _ want _ or _ consent _ to it, an entirely new problem might arise. Especially given their rather public setting.

Jisung nodded again, the sunglasses falling slightly down his nose.

Once again moving slowly, the younger slid inside the room, gently guiding Jisung further inside by a hand on his lower back.

Jisung was fiddling with the wrap on his arm feebly, his face set in a frown. "Do you want the bandage off?" With a frustrated- and overly adorable- huff, Jisung gave up and threw his arm in Felix's direction. Slowly, his twin was becoming more and more animated. The thought warmed Felix's heart.

With a short laugh, the redhead made quick work of taking off the wrap. After he was finished, he examined Jisung's lower arm with extreme care- using only his fingertips to turn it in various directions. The skin was still discolored, but there didn't seem any structural issues. With a light sigh, Felix slowly let Jisung's arm back to his side.

For the second time since waking, Jisung spoke, eyes still trained downwards: "I- uh. I think I'll be....okay." Though he didn't explicitly say what he meant, Felix understood Jisung loud and clear.

3 simple, quiet knocks came from the other side of the door.

Jisung jumped, tightly grabbing onto the bottom of his borrowed button down.

Felix -already on his way out- opened the door a sliver, already knowing who was on the other side.

They exchanged a silent nod, Chan handing over a pile of folded clothes and Jisung's black toiletries bag. Felix swiftly placed it on them on the counter, relaying to his twin exactly what he was doing as he did it. With one last smile, Felix stepped out of the bathroom. Regardless of whether Jisung had actually seen it, maybe he could pick up on Felix's positive vibe and benefit from it.

Closing the door behind him, the youngest found a foot blocking the pathway. Looking up to its owner, Felix nodded in understanding and walked off towards the front counter. _ Woojin must be lonely and worried. _

"Hey Sungie? Same as last time. If I don't hear water running in ten minutes, I'm going to check in on you, okay?" Chan stayed outside of the room, not bothering to check on Jisung visually. He knew the younger could hear him.

A squeak of acknowledgement came from the bathroom and Chan nodded to himself, closing the door before joining the others at the front.

There wasn't any better way to do it than rip away the anxiety like a band aid.

Jisung was dressed, clean, shaved and styled. His bag was stored under the sink, next to the first aid kit. He had already checked his hair three times in the mirror, but his attention kept going back to _ that one hair that won't fucking lay right _.

Walking out into the cafe, like a new person, Jisung sauntered up behind the counter like he belonged. The only one to notice him was Woojin. Chan was out wiping tables, and Felix was thoroughly engrossed in explaining some inane subject to the eldest. Tapping his twin on the shoulder with a bright smile, Jisung was giggling to himself at the way the taller nearly jumped a foot in the air.

"Ji!!!!" The younger yelled, uncaring of the attention his deep voice garnered. Felix's expression mirrored Jisung's, but his eyes held some reservation, caution from the earlier experience- that is, until Jisung held his arms out to his twin. The fireball was back to his usual energetic state in a second, launching himself at Jisung and spinning the shorter in circles.

It didn't slip past the youngest's attention that Jisung was most _ definitely _ wearing a leftover outfit of Minho's that he had _ definitely not _seen the owner in just a few days ago. It was slightly big on him; the vertically striped button down- tucked only in the front- paired with black joggers exuded a charm that only his twin could pull off.

Before completely releasing the other, Felix bent down to his ear, "are you feeling better?"

"Yeah, I am. Sorry abo-"

Felix knocked their heads together lightly, still cautious of Jisung's healing injuries. "Don't you dare say sorry. Everyone has off days. That's what your family is here for. We've got you. Just trust us, kay?" Felix pulled back with a stunning, gummy smile.

Jisung, on the other hand, wanted to cry at the concern. However. He had things he had to do today and crying was certainly not one of them. No. So, instead he smiled back, wiggling cutely in his twin's grasp.

"Hey, are you guys done yet? Jisung-hyung needs to eat so we can leave."

And..._ who the fuck are you? _

Sitting on the other side of the counter was a student, dressed in the same.. uniform..... as.... Jisung's....... school's? _ How does this kid know my name? _

Felix settled his arm on top of Jisung's shoulders, turning them so that he could gesture at the intruder with his free hand.

"Han Jisung, this is Yang Jeongin. Your oh-so-lovely company for today. He's a year younger than you." 

The other boy, with sharp, unique features, was watching the twins' interaction with unveiled intrigue.

"Shouldn't you be in school, or something?"

The youngest quirked an eyebrow, resting his chin on his hand as he leaned forward towards the twins. "Shouldn't we _ both _ be at school right now?"

It finally hit Jisung. And when it did, it was a freight train. SchOOL. hIS HOMEWORK. THE TESTS._ HIS MUSIC PROJECT _ . THAT STUPID HISTORY ASSIGNMENT THAT HE HAD TAKEN _ FOREVER _TO WRI-

The arm around his shoulder was rocking him back and forth, as if he was on a boat. In his ear, Felix was singing "Jisunggg~ JIIIIIiiii~ Jisungieeee...." in various pitches. Turning to look at the thoroughly unimpressed expression on his twin, Jisung realized he'd spaced out. The blond shivered as the last tendrils of Felix's breath moved the hair on his nape.

"Sorr-"

Felix headbutted him for the second time that morning. Less nicely this time.

"Hey!"

"Guys. Food. _Now._ Fighting? later."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aussies to the rescue! Ji will be alright...he's just a bit overwhelmed at the stark differences between the environments.  
This is the last chapter I actually have written, though. So the next one may not be up for a bit.
> 
> °˖✧◝(⁰▿⁰)◜✧˖°


	15. M.I.A.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A quick set up before things pick up.
> 
> °˖✧◝(⁰▿⁰)◜✧˖°

Turns out, Jeongin was too impatient and tired of being in the cafe atmosphere for his liking. With a knowing nod to Woojin, he pulled Jisung along to a waiting taxi and gave the driver the address for a mall far too expensive for anything Jisung could ever even breathe on. _ I knew this was going to happen _.

Jisung twisted his hands in his lap, trying to figure out how to address the lack of capital in his possession. _ As if it’s not obvious enough. _

Jeongin had barely even looked at him since leaving. It was awkward. And despite his effort to put forth a strong front, all the little ‘what ifs’ were running through Jisung’s brain at a higher frequency than he was comfortable handling.

Maintaining his gaze out the window, the younger spoke in a tone far more animated than his lackadaisical posture, "don't worry about anything today! We're going to go get new uniforms and whatever." Pulling out a shining black card, Jeongin finally faced Jisung, an evil smirk on his face. "We've got Minho-hyung's card, too. And it's got no limit.” The boy paused to chuckle to himself. “'Get everything you need. Don’t forget a work outfit. And don't think I'll ever give my card to you, again.' I believe were his exact words. So don't worry, yeah? And if you see anything you want, just grab it!" As if it were an afterthought, Jeongin added a more serious: “really. Don’t worry. Minho-hyung’s loaded and I certainly won’t tell him if you pick up an extra pair of underwear, or something.” As if a switch were flipped, the energy returned, “I promise!”

Minho was furious. Woojin and Chan exchanged similar looks of strained amusement as they watched their friend slowly lose his shit. It didn’t happen often...but when it did...

"What do you mean: 'you _ left _ him'? You had one task?!"

Jeongin, seated in front of Minho, was shrinking into his seat. The maknae's eyes searched the cafe for any possible means of escape. He found none. Especially with Minho stalking back in forth, practically wearing a path into the cement, hands clasping and unclasping at his side. To make the situation even better, Jeongin had the luck to meet the eyes of an unfortunate couple sitting in the corner, staring open-mouthed at the scene. 

Unfortunately, the cafe owner didn't seem to give a flying fuck about losing customers. He was too blinded by irrationally explosive anger. 

Minho barely knew Jisung. He had barely even _ talked _ to Jisung. But the small interactions he _ had _ shared with the boy sparked something deep within him. Something protective. Something he wasn't even qualified to possess.

"Hyung. I bet he'll be back. It didn't seem like he was all that… excited to go back to wherever." The two elders were nodding in understanding, agreeing with Jeongin and nearly bashing their heads together in their close proximity.

Leveling an _ extremely _unimpressed gaze on the maknae, Minho sighed heavily. He stopped pacing to place his hands on his hips, leaning into the youngest’s personal bubble. "That's not the point and you know it." The excessive flood of emotion left with the words, evident as Minho nearly fell into the seat opposite Jeongin.

A familiar striped mug was gently placed in front of him. The emotional refractory period was by no means close to being over; so, it was left untouched- acknowledged only by a small nod of thanks. 

Chan leaned lightly into Minho's side, providing warmth and calmness to his agitated state. The younger gladly accepted and shut his eyes to bask in the physical affection. He couldn't care less if there were footsteps rushing out of the cafe. He didn't care about _ those _people. In fact, he'd had enough of 'caring' for the rest of the day. Period.

From behind the counter, Woojin quietly released Jeongin from the dissipating tension: "Innie, you have school tomorrow; so, why don't you get home? I'm sure they're worried about you."

The youngest jumped up, overly accepting of the idea. Gathering the bags he'd gotten early, Jeongin rushed to the exit door. Just before he stepped out, he called back in a strained voice: "I'm sure he'll be back, hyung. He's a good guy. He won't leave you."

_ I wouldn't be so sure about that _.

Minho could picture all the things that were possibly running through the poor boy's head. From awful ideas of being pitied and treated as a 'sugar baby' (as Chan had delicately brought to his attention) to being so embarrassed at his situation that the younger had no idea how he would ever face anyone in society, ever again. 

That had never been Minho's intention.

Is what he told himself.

In reality, he knew there was a sick part of him which was drawn to Jisung because it would be _ so easy _ for the younger to become dependent on him. To have no one but Minho to turn to. For everything. The sick part of Minho wanted to have something that was his by _ choice _ . Not by title, contract or paycheck. Something that chose _ him _.

But nothing of the sort would happen if the younger ran away and had no intention of ever returning. Maybe sending Jeongin with him had been a bad decision. But, who would've known what was required for their school better than a fellow student? And it was highly doubtful that Jeongin said anything utterly stupid (unlike what could've happened had Hyunjin or Seungmin gone).

Groaning and shifting his weight to fully rest on Chan, Minho realized how bad he fucked up. He should've just gone with Jisung. Rather than being stuck speculating, he would've been able to watch every change in the boy's expression and boy language. To push the boy to get everything he wanted and never had the opportunity to own. To better understand who he was and _ why _ he was. 

If only.

In a voice that was far too small but echoed across the empty cafe, regardless, Minho voiced thoughts that he barely had time to process: "what if he doesn't eat? Every time he comes here, he looks skinnier...and he even said he can't sleep because of those damn hunters." Minho's soft voice took on a hard edge as the elders looked everywhere but him. Chan carefully settled his arm across Minho's shoulders, unable to find the right words to comfort him verbally.

"Min, it's one night." Minho was by far the most predictable out of their entire group. They all knew he'd be out, meandering around town until he found sanctuary from his thoughts. 

Woojin's words hit him like condescending bricks. _ One night. _ Did he know _ just how much _ could go wrong in one night? How much that Minho could lose his cool? Obviously he did, or he wouldn't be smirking so widely.

With a huff, Minho stood up, shook Chan’s arm off, downed the now lukewarm coffee, and all but stomped out of his cafe.


	16. Glow (up)

Walking through the garbage lined pathways, Jisung's environmental awareness was incredibly heightened. A mixture of repulsive smells drifted around him, changing constantly with the slight evening breeze. Every little noise made him jump and swivel his head impossibly fast. After being in such a clean and calming environment the last couple days, coming back made the relentless feeling of guilt dig its claws in. 

Who was he to pretend that he deserved more than the molded cardboard he was walking on? 

He hadn’t done anything to deserve anything more.

The bags in his hands were heavy- burning his hand- as though he were carrying molten cinder blocks. The bags stuck out starkly against the dirty surroundings, causing Jisung to cringe every time a streetlight caught an unmarred, glimmering insignia.

He appreciated them. Truly- he had never owned items that were of such good quality; they wouldn't have to be replaced for quite some time. But, he didn't deserve them. Jeongin had refused to let Jisung contribute even a penny towards the purchases. Despite Jisung's blatant disdain and constant nausea, the duo had walked out of the mall with everything on the list Jeongin carried:

**Breakfast.** (A quick stop at a mall vendor had allowed Jeongin to quickly explain exactly what they were there for; as well as the location of each store the younger intended to go to. Again, he reassured Jisung that alternate suggestions were perfectly acceptable. And directly, but politely, shot down when Jisung requested- ashamed and quiet- to not complete their assigned trip.)

**2 sets of uniforms. ** (Jeongin seemed to know this particular store like the back of his hand- dragging Jisung along to the male section and swiftly pulling the appropriate clothing off of various racks. Though the new clothes exactly matched his last set, these were inexplicably softer and thicker.  _ Even the tie _ felt more silky.)

**1 work uniform.** (Purchased from the same store as his uniform, Jisung had been guided into picking a pair of loose-fitting khakis and a simple, long sleeve, black button down.)

**2 sets of shoes.** (“One casual and one for school or work.” This had been the worst part. The uniform shoes were easy. But, Jeongin had to gather all his patience to gently coerce the elder into choosing a _design_\- “_not a_ _price tag_”- that he liked. In the end, Jisung had ended up with a basic pair of black sneakers. 

**A new backpack. ** (Again, all black. A simple bag with no obvious emblem.)

**Notebooks, highlighters, pens, and pencils.** (All of which came in large packs so that Jisung wouldn't “run out any time soon”. When he had started sputtering at all the choices available, Jeongin had huffed and started throwing random packs of supplies into their basket. Even some that weren’t on the list. "You won't be able to do much if you fail your classes. You said you wanted that scholarship, yeah? You need to pass,  _ so take them _ .")

In reality, it probably didn't seem like a lot to people who were used to throwing away their possessions without a care. For those who didn’t even blink when their pens ran out of ink or their pencils snapped under pressure (wasting precious lead).

The thoughts led to a rabbit hole.

How weird, it would be for Jisung to be able to sleep in his own  bed ...cot. And to be not bothered by other people. The ruckus outside of his hut had died down considerably, compared to the last time that he'd been there. But, it was still empty. 

**Smelly. Empty. Cold. Dark.**

No note. No reminiscent smell of perfume. No change in the surroundings. 

**Lonely. Nauseating. Bitter. Repulsive.**

The one light that  _ was _ there, flickered on and off. It gave Jisung a scare every time, to the point he could barely concentrate on transferring everything from the shopping bags to his backpack. 

It was still early into the evening. A time that should’ve been comforting as the world transitioned from the haste of the work days into the calming embrace of night. Yet, the enclosure felt increasingly more suffocating. _ It’s never been home. _

Even when the trashcan had fallen on him and he'd ran for his life through back alleys, he’d felt more at ease. In those places, he could easily express himself and in this place… nothing. No feelings of welcome or attachment.  _ It’s not home. Never was, never will be. _

The closest thing he could conjure was Chan. Chan's arms.  _ The minty-vanilla. _ The way he was calm and in control. How the elder was able to work through every situation Jisung put him in with unwavering precision. The structure. And ability share- and sometimes, hand over- his problems was something Jisung was in no way familiar with.

His mom tried. She _really _did. But just like the last week, she was rarely there for him. When he was growing up, she'd been there physically but not mentally; too tired from the extra jobs and overtime. But, recently, it was the opposite. Jisung rarely saw his only family member. And whenever they were together, it always felt like it'd be the last. In no way could he ever bring himself to hate his mom and her flighty tendencies. _Would I be able to do any better, if I were in her position? _No. He wouldn't.

It was times like these that Jisung wish he were at the studio, able to drown out his thoughts in his music. Create something beautiful out of misery. 

Something that would connect with others and have them share his experiences.

Something that would make people realize things about themselves they hadn't understood before.

Jisung froze. Terror ran through him as his thoughts raced through memories of the weekend.  _ What the fuck? My headphones? Where are they? _ He frantically dug through all of his new possessions; still being careful, not letting any of them touch the filthy ground.  _ They're not here. I didn't have them yesterday. Are they in my other backpack? _ No. 

A brilliant, horrifying moment flashed in his mind.  _ The chase. _ He'd had his headphones right before it, but in his frenzied haste to get away from that fucking guy, they’d fallen off.  _ How could I forget them? Why didn't I just put them in my bag? I'm so fucking stupid _ .

Without hesitating, Jisung shoved everything back into the bag.  _ Fuck the wrinkles. Fuck organization. _ His headphones mattered the most. His peace. His only possession that he had pride in. The thing he'd  _ starved  _ for. And the thing he ached for. The thing he ached  _ without. _

All but racing out of the shack, Jisung tore across the city, bag bouncing on his shoulders. The striped shirt flowed in the air and Jisung was grateful that the clothes given to him were at least somewhat athletic. The new sneakers rubbed his feet raw and his leg pulsed with residual strain; but, Jisung ignored it all. His headphones.  _ I can’t lose them.  _

It didn't take more than fifteen minutes for Jisung to reach the park. The slide. The bench. The swings off in the corner. The crawling tube on the other side of the apparatus that he  _ hadn’t even been near _ .  **Nothing.**

In the light cast from the street lights, Jisung's heart dropped even further. His breath was already unsteady with the exercise; but, he held it anyway. Like he would scare off his headphones if he breathed too loudly.

_ Maybe someone picked them up. Or that fatass took them. _ Either way, there was no way he’d ever see them again. After a few more controlled, frantic minutes of searching everywhere, even brushing around the wood chips in hopes there were  _ some _ signs of his precious possession, he came up empty handed.  **Absolutely. ** ** _E m p t y._ **

An idea surfaced in Jisung's desperate mind. His last hope of finding any trace of them was definitely in the path he had taken to get away from the officer. However. It was far too close to the sun completely disappearing for searching alleyways to be practical. He had no flashlight. But there was certainly a place nearby that would.

No doubt they would judge him. 

For being so concerned about a single pair of headphones… Chan always encouraged him to seek out their help... _ not like they haven't already done more than enough _ . But… after all the stress and anxiety…  _ what's one more thing? _

Thus, it was only minutes later that Jisung found himself standing, breathless, outside of Minho's cafe.

The door was open, letting the breeze and customers flow in and out. As Jisung had expected, the elders were working behind the counter in an effortless harmony to produce the orders for a buzzing atmosphere. Apologetically, Jisung pushed his way through the cue to sit on the far end of the bar, willing himself to patiently wait for the cue to die down.

Not even a minute into sitting, a cat was trying to find a way up his bouncing leg. Jisung was so caught up in his thoughts that he didn't notice until a dark haired stranger awkwardly waddled over. Too shocked, the student gaped as the person  _ definitely _ invaded his personal space. All for the sake of the tiny black cat that was treating Jisung like a tree.

"Hey! You can't be doing that to people!!"

With the energetic cat ( _ kitten? _ ) trapped in his arms, the stranger bowed several times, "I'm sorry. He gets like this sometimes. Again, I'm sorry."

Woojin's amused laughter interrupted the rapid bowing, causing the boy- dressed head to toe in all black??- to look up sheepishly. An unexpectedly high pitched whine came from the boy: "Hyuuunnnnggggggg. Help meeee. He won't chill!" As he complained, the kitten only seemed to grow more agitated, twisting and thrashing with excessive effort.

As usual, Chan came to the rescue of those around him; walking around the counter (not without dragging a hand across Woojin's back as he passed) to stand in front of the kitten, the blond barista rolled his eyes. With a single swift, experience movement, Chan grabbed it by the scruff, blew a sharp puff of air in its face, and set the now limp kitten on the stool next to Jisung.

"Binnie. You  _ know _ he hates being held." The stern expression lessened into something more akin with playful mirth as the elder returned to Woojin's side with a poke of 'Binnie's' nose. Woojin vocalized the thought left hanging in the air with unbridled laughter, "especially by you, Changbin." The addressed boy whined, pouting the biggest (and most dramatic) pout Jisung had ever seen, before stomping back to a table across the cafe.

"And that, Jisung, was Changbin."

Jisung stared back at the eldest with unsuppressed confusion. Which was quickly diverted by the once-calm kitten full out jumping onto his lap. It clumsily head butted his abdomen and tried to climb up his shirt, but Jisung quickly remembered:  _ these aren't my clothes, you little demon cat. Stop trying to ruin them.  _ Without even thinking, Jisung picked the cat up -in the same way Chan had- and deposited it on his shoulders, where it settled easily into the crack between his body and backpack. The kitten made short work of licking everywhere on Jisung's neck, as if he were another cat that needed to be cleansed.

The sensation was odd, causing a full body shiver to tear through the student.

"Glad to see you're back, Jisung." "We didn't know if you'd be back so soon, Sungie. But, I'm so happy you are. You had us all a bit worried." At the mention of his name, Jisung focused on the ones speaking to him.  _ Worried? About me? _ As usual, Woojin and Chan were basically molded into each other, amusedly staring at him as if he'd done something spectacular to earn their approval. 

_ Oh _ .

"I- uh- actually." The cat was  _ still _ licking him. Now, the back of his ear instead of his neck. Jisung cringed; both because of the animal  _ and  _ his uncontrollable awkwardness.

The couple inclined their heads in confusion at the same time, same direction. But, they didn't  _ say  _ anything. Just waited for him to gather his wits enough to complete his thought.

A deep breath and dropping his eyes to watch his hands wring in his lap allowed for the student to gather enough courage to vomit out his wish. "Actually, I need to borrow a flashlight. I promise I'll bring it back after I finish, but..." Jisung trailed off, already feeling like he was losing his point and wasting time. “I need to borrow one."

Chan made a confused noise. "Hm? What for? You've got school tomorrow...you should really be getting ready to sleep soon?"

Going to school was one thing. But, the only reason Jisung had kept up such a perfect attendance record- _well, until_ _today- _was because of the classes at the end of the day. And how was he supposed to work in a production lab that thoroughly stressed a 'headphone rule" when _his _were _missing_? 

The elder walked around the bar once again as Woojin moved to take a customer's order. Softly, Chan placed his arm around Jisung's shoulders- avoiding the lightly snoring kitten- as the younger began to deflate inwards. "Hey." His voice was soft and his movements quiet. The cafe was still rather full, and Jisung was certainly not one to want attention when he was in this kind of state.

"I told you, right? We're here to help you. There are flashlights in the supply closet by the bathroom. You can grab one of them and take some extra batteries just in case." Jisung made a small noise of acknowledgement. "But, will you tell us why you rushed in here looking for one? I wasn't exaggerating when I said you had us worried." 

The kitten chose that moment to nuzzle into Jisung's nape, snoring more loudly than the little body should allow. The small vibrations slowly worked out the tenseness in Jisung's shoulders, causing him to thoroughly slump into the body supporting him at the thought of voicing his shame.

Sure, Chan and the rest were kind and accommodating (perhaps, more than Jisung was comfortable allowing himself to partake in); but, there was always that stubborn voice within his body that refused to share his problems with others. It was  _ his _ fault and no one else's that his headphones were  gone ....  **lost.**

The elder's hand was suddenly on Jisung's face, wiping under his eyes. "Hey. Hey?" Jisung only pursed his lips, shaking his head slightly. They had no reason to know.  _ It's my problem. _

Chan was staring at him, concerned, trying to make eye contact but constantly failing. Jisung, whether he realized it or not, leaned into Chan's hands, seeking further relief for whatever situation he was putting himself through. The elder's heart twisted. Jisung had already been through so much and there was no way any of them could help him, if he didn't allow himself to be helped. "It's alright if you don't want to tell me. If you're more comfortable with Wooji-"

The thought of Chan not being aware of just  _ how much _ Jisung trusted him, despite all the things that had happened absolutely horrified the younger. Before Jisung even realized it, he was blubbering. "My- my... h- headph- one..s."

It was an absolute mess of an answer; distorted by saliva, shame, and not wanting to draw more attention to himself than he already had.

"Your headphones? What about them Sungie?" The elder’s voice was soft, mirroring Jisung's disposition.

He'd already come that far, he might as well get the worst of it over with. Let Chan get back to work. Get on with his day. "They're missing. I need them for tomorrow. For class. I need a flashlight to look for them."

"Thank you for telling me, Sungie. The flashlights are in the back closet, like I said. You're free to take any of them. And if you want to wash up in the bathroom before heading out, you're can do that, too." All the actions were Jisung's. His to do, or not do. It was a refreshing feeling, considering the rest of the weekend- including the spontaneous shopping trip- he'd basically been pressured into. Nodding slowly, Jisung slid out of his chair. Chan backed up and dropped his hand to give the student space, watching the movements cautiously.

Cracking an eye open at the sudden movements, the kitten yawned tiredly before settling back down, uninterested. That was, until Chan grabbed it by the scruff, once again, to free Jisung the weight on his shoulders. Maybe he couldn't help him mentally, but this small physical act was surely possible. Or so he thought.

Small, sharp claws quickly extended and dug into Jisung's neck. Chan quickly let go as the boy yelped, attempting to duck away from the sudden pain.

Woojin, who seemed to have gained a second in the steady stream of patrons, laughed wholeheartedly at the scene. "I think he likes you, Jisung. If you just leave him there, he'll never get down." The barista was still chuckling by the end of his statement, amusedly locking eyes with Chan who cracked a small smile.

"Woojin's right."

Still flustered, Jisung brought his uninjured hand up to pat the kitten. At the show of affection, it released his skin and settled back into a constant purr, pushing its small body into Jisung's hand.

In a dazed voice, the student admitted his only thought: "it's alright." Realizing the statement was rather ambiguous, Jisung clarified, "he can stay." Then quieter: "it'll be nice to have someone come with me."  _ Considering I don't know how long this'll take. _

Jisung didn't wait for their response, knowing it wasn't a situation where there could be much else to say. The excited cafe buzz was beginning to die down; still, the majority of the tables were occupied by students and businessmen. It was definitely dark out, but the lights in the cafe provided a warmth like no other place he'd ever been to.

The supply closet was easy to find and even easier to navigate. Every shelf was labeled and organized into obnoxiously neat rows.  _ It's to be expected, at this point, I guess... _ With a small, LED flashlight (and extra batteries stored in his pocket), Jisung nodded happily. He'd made the right decision to stop by the cafe. To rely on others.

Jisung even made a quick stop to the bathroom, allowing for a second to freshen up with the supplies in his black bag. Something about having his own things in a place that didn't smell of mold and sweaty feet made every part of his body tingle.

In the reflection, the black ball of fur looked overly cute, curled into his neck. Scratching lightly behind its ears, Jisung giggled as the purring increased once again. It didn't even bother opening its eyes. Just trusted him. 

A striking thought ran through Jisung's head as he realized just  _ how much _ control the kitten was allowing him to have. So much could go wrong so fast, but it was just calmly sleeping on his shoulders. It was something he would have been shocked for even a domesticated cat to do, let alone a street cat.

Jisung wished that he could swap places. To forget and enjoy an endless calm. But he couldn't.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay this could totally just be counted as part two of Chapter 14. OOps.
> 
> °˖✧◝(⁰▿⁰)◜✧˖°


	17. Eunseoki

Jisung wished that he could swap places. To forget and enjoy an endless calm. But he couldn't.

Sharply shaking his head and slapping his cheeks, Jisung looked into his reflections eyes

_ You're going to find them. _

** _It'll be okay._ **

_ And you're going to be okay. _

He repeated it to himself like a mantra until he could at least force himself to act like he believed the words.

A few minutes later, Jisung walked back to the front with his confidence as his shield. The elder's behind the counter grinned at the stark change in persona. Jisung wore conviction better than most- unwavering and unbreakable.

That is, until he met eyes with a certain Hwang Hyunjin chilling on the steps just outside of the cafe.

The normally intimidating stranger was huddled over a dog that was spinning in circles, nipping at its owner?s hands with gleeful delight. Jisung stopped his steps out of shock, staring wide-eyed down at the boy. 

As always, he was dressed like a model in tight fitting pants and a loose, patterned button down. And his hair. In the wind it flowed /just/ enough to look like he was going down a runway. The impatient huff from Hyunjin made Jisung realize just how much he had been shamelessly checking out the boy.

It was at that point that Jisung remembered his _ own _ outfit. He didn't look half bad, either. Even if his clothes were far more casual. Squaring his shoulders, Jisung tore his gaze away and promptly ignored Hwang Hyunjin.

The dog started barking obnoxiously, the sounds ringing off of the walls and down the street. Despite Hyunjin's strained promises of treats and naps, it never ceased. Though he was walking away from the sound, Jisung could easily picture the little monster just jumping in circles and wagging its tail as it ignorantly woke up the entire neighborhood.

Maybe it was something about the false bravado, or the snarky ass huff Hyunjin had made seconds ago, but he snapped.

Stomping back to the duo in a way that was far more dramatic than necessary, Jisung sank to his knees right in front of where the dog was spinning. Such a large being moving dropping so close scared the pup. It quickly shot between Hyunjin's legs with a yelp, then took up growling once it realized the proximity of a looming stranger.

Jisung made sure that the kitten was still stable in its position before cautiously extending his hand to the dog. The growling only increased, serving to jog Jisung's memory.

"You're _ that _ dog!?"

"Do you expect him to respond or something?" Jisung ignored the sass. Fuck Hyunjin. They obviously weren't about to hit it off and go for ice cream. _ Of course, this is _ his _ dog. _

"What the hell's that supposed to mean?" That caught Jisung's attention. 

With an overly look of friendly comradery, he responded in a tone that practically dripped with sweetness: "'Like pet like owner', I believe is how the saying goes."

At that, Jisung reached up to pet the little black demon on his shoulders. It wasn't his place to insulate the kitten was his, but it wasn't exactly going around waking up an entire neighborhood, either. Plus, with the physical affection it only became more cute, kneading lightly into his shoulder as it continued sleeping.

"Well we were called out here to help you; but if you're going to be like that, we'll just go. Good luck finding your headphones." Hyunjin stood up, the air of arrogance flourishing around him as usual. The dog only seemed to mirror his owners posture.

_ My headphones? Why's he know about that? Did Chan tell him? Or Woojin? _

Hyunjin sighed sharply. He dramatically rolled his head and eyes, as talking to Jisung was making him overly exhausted- taking every bit of patience the universe allowed for the taller.

"_ Yes _ . Woojin called me. _ No. _ I don't want to help you. But. Here we are. So, you're going to go with lil' Sunshine here." Hyunjin's belittling facade broke as he knelt next to his dog, petting it with an adoring smile. "He's going to help you find the things so we can all just go back to bed before we have to wake up ass crack early and suffer all day." Hyunjin unclipped the leash from 'Sunshine's' collar. Standing back up, the pet owner lowered down to Jisung's level- hands on his hips and an eyebrow raised. "Got it? Good." No room for argument. "Now _ what do you say _ since we're so generously helping you? _ HMM? _"

"Shouldn't you leave the leash on him? What if he runs away?"

Hyunjin cackled. _ What’s so funny…? _ The sound was so loud Jisung shrank away from the patronizing boy, who was obviously uncaring of the racket he was making in the middle of the night. "He- he won't run away." As if making a show of it, Hyunjin stepped across the pathway to the opposite wall. The bi-colored dog merely scampered with him, following at the perfect distance as to not get stepped on or lose his human. 

The perfect example of a pet. As if the alleyway had turned into a dog show.

"And if he _ does _ run away from you"- the tall boy leaned down to scratch behind the fluffy golden brown ears- again- not able to stay disconnected from his companion -"I know he'll come back to me." A sharp poke to the nose ended the pet session as Hyunjin returned to his feet once again. "When you're done, come back here and one of those two”- a floppy gesture towards the cafe -"will call me to come get Sunshine."

Slightly overwhelmed, Jisung nodded numbly at the information overload. He already had a cat that blatantly refused to leave his side (shoulders?)... and now he was supposed to pet sit some dog? _ What the fuck... _

"You could at least say thank you. Is it really that hard? Must be... _ for someone like you _." 

The rudeness ignited a fury inside Jisung, making him finally reply with some of his thoughts: "And why am I supposed to pet sit _ your _ dog?" The animal, as if insulted edged forward, low to the ground in the same motion Jisung had first seen it make in the alley a couple days prior. Jisung froze. He _ still _ didn't know how to handle animals of the canine type. Cats seemed so basic and easy to read. But dogs? They always seemed to have loyalties so strong that it constantly made Jisung on edge when interacting with them. This time was no different.

"Sunshine." Hyunjin had the decency to speak with a warning edge in his voice. But it was the shrill hissing from behind Jisung's shoulder that made the dog's shackles drop.

A flash of recognition crossed Hyunjin's face and it was gone just as fast as it came.

"Sunshine. Chill." And ‘chill’ was exactly what the dog did, looking back at its owner with its tail tucked.

Hyunjin stepped around Sunshine back to Jisung, holding his hand out expectantly. "Hand."

"I'm not your dog."

Snickering, Hyunjin reached out and took Jisung's hand, ignoring the shrill hissing that was still ongoing. Jisung had no mind to stop the kitten because, honestly, he didn't want to be touched. Especially, not by Hwang Hyunjin.

None too gently, Jisung was pulled into a kneeling position, his hand yanked forward in the dog's direction. Instinctively, the student tried to take his hand away, but Hyunjin's grip only tightened.

Looking expectantly at his dog, Hyunjin spoke sternly: "come on. I don't have all night and neither do you." Cautiously, Sunshine obliged and sniffed a couple times at Jisung's hand before drawing away with a sneeze. Hyunjin giggled and released his captive.

"Well, I'll be going. He'll help you track your headphones. Don't put a leash on him. And, _ don't fucking touch him _." Hyunjin didn't even bother looking back as he disappeared around a nearby corner.

Jisung slowly dropped his gaze back to the dog, whose tail was slowly sweeping across the ground. "I guess it's us, Sunshine." 

Turning the flashlight on, the student began retracing the pathway as best he could remember it. Going backwards caused him a bit of confusion, particularly at a few four-way intersections; there was one in particular that had Jisung kneeling down to let Sunshine sniff him, softly whining about how "this'll take forever if we get lost. Come on, you've got to helpp~"

Whether Sunshine was actually following Jisung's scent or just some barbeque remnants floating around soon became blaringly apparent. They traversed through a myriad of alleyways stopping periodically so Jisung could overturn boxes and crates. 

The breeze had dropped in temperature; unbeknownst to Jisung until his hand passed over his arm while searching through a pile of trash. Just the sensation of goosebumps nearly scared him straight out of his body.

Extreme doubt and misery had set in far quicker than the cold did. It was getting increasingly more difficult to keep moving due to the heaviness that was setting into places deeper than just his body.

Sunshine barked, focused on something farther into the alley, and took off at a pace just under an energetic sprint.

_ Well, at least the run'll warm me up... _ Not that he quite had the energy to move that fast. So, Jisung trailed behind the dog, concentrated on keeping it within eyesight so that Hyunjin wouldn't have his ass later that morning.

After a few sharply turned corners, Jisung quickly pulled the kitten down from his shoulders in an attempt to quiet its distressed meows. With the small black creature tucked securely next to his heaving lungs, the student was able push harder to follow Sunshine. If the meowing hadn't disturbed some of the households, there was no doubt that Jisung's fatigue-induced stomps and the dog’s aggressive pursuit _ of whatever _ would. 

_ I r.e.a.l.l.y. don't have the energy to outrun another policeman. Or worse- some old lady and her seventy year old broomstick _.

A couple more turns later and the trio was certainly almost to the shack. The surroundings had quickly faded from imposing brick buildings and tall fences to plywood boxes and rusted chain link assemblies.

"Wait! Sunshine!" _ He can't have just tracked my smell to... I've already checked there. My headphones aren- _ As if Sunshine had heard Jisung's internal begs for him to halt, the dog froze. " _ ACK _! WHAT'D YOU STOP FOR?!" 

The student launched himself over the animal in an effort not to completely squash it. The kitten let out a deafening screech as they took to the air. Luckily, Jisung was able to stabilize them right before they fell on a particularly merciless, splintered-looking stack of pallets. 

"_ Woah _ ." Jisung took the chance to catch his breath and take in the eerily quiet neighborhood before turning on the dog in a whispered yell, "What was _ that _ for!? You could have gotten us injured?! What was _ so _import-"

The dog completely ignored Jisung, entirely focused on a contraption laying in the middle of the road, slightly further ahead in the direction that they'd been running. Sunshine whined lowly; dropping to his stomach, ears back, and tail stuck out directly backwards.

Jisung held his breath. Inching forward and tightening his grip on the cat- _ Midnight. I'm going to call you Midnight. Because Midnight and Sunshine, ya know? _\- the contraption was painfully obvious. Surely, if the trio had continued running, tired and concentrated on not the ground, they would have easily fallen for it. 

But, on closer inspection, it wasn't anything spectacular. A rope that matched the dirt path was lightly covered by misplaced chunks of mud. It was more torn up that any typical rope, however, almost like there were tines intentionally created to injure something caught in the middle. Imagining the loop closing around someone, or something, Jisung shivered. Sunshine growled as the student slowly approached the creation, grimacing more and more as the flashlight revealed just how grotesque the invention was. _ Is this for the competition? What kind of sick fuck.. _ he didn't even want to think about it. 

Carefully, pulling a loose stick from the pallet mound, Jisung held his breath. The sharp _ crack _ resounded in the quiet area. Grimacing, he stuck the flashlight between his teeth and cautiously slid the wood underneath the loop. If the neighborhood was known for housing the intelligent, Jisung might have been more wary of some Rube Goldberg effect; but thankfully, he was safe even after the rope had been jostled. Letting out a shaky breath of relief, Jisung tugged the rope free of the dirt and quickly flung it off onto the side of the pathway.

With the way free, Sunshine rose and continued down the pathway, leaving behind the events that had just taken place.

Jisung pulled Midnight to be more centered, wrapping both of his arms around the kitten that, no doubt, had to be feeling the cold. Following Sunshine once again, part of the student was wondering if he was just going to be led back to the shack where he "lived"... If the entire effort would be for naught. 

_ It has to be at least three by now. _.. Jisung's watch confirmed his suspicions.

"Hey, Sunshine wait up!" Catching up to the dog wasn't hard, thankfully he slowed to a slow trot. This time, the dog paused and looked back at the student, finally condeding that he actually understood his name.

Kneeling next to the creature, Jisung felt an intense need to pet Sunshine and tell him how proud he was of the dedication the dog showed to helping out. However, he only dropped his head, the exhaustion and disappointment finally hitting Jisung like a bus. _ I'm not going to find them. Hyunjin's probably mad at me for keeping his dog out this long, anyway.... What am I supposed to- _

Sunshine growled. Without looking up, Jisung waved off the animal. "We need to get back. Hyunji-"

A kick square to the middle of Jisung's back sent him flying forward. Instinctually, he curled around Midnight, ensuring the kitten wouldn't get crushed under his body weight. Thankfully? It didn't matter much because Jisung skidded a few feet down the path on his _ bad _ side. If his wrist and leg had been mostly recovered, they sure as _ hell _ were returned back to square one. or maybe square negative fifty. There had to be blood flowing from somewhere. _ On clothes that aren't mine. Way to go, Jisung. _

Taking a second to shake the distractions off, Jisung re-centered his attention on two men? boys? that were doing their best to intimidate the fearsome- but small- dog that was guarding Jisung. Or, attempting to. 

Both the offenders were dressed head to toe in black; baseball caps and masks covering their features. One was considerably more overweight than the other. But, that wasn't necessarily hard to be. _ That guy looks like a fucking twig. I bet it was the fat one that kicked me. _

Regardless, the two were angry and considerably more advantaged. _ Two against one. _

"It was you, wasn't it?? You fuckin' brat!"

"Who the fuck do you think ya are?"

"That was _ our _ dog damn trap! And _ yooouu _fuckin' ruined it!"

Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum were hyping themselves up; feeding off of each other's energy. They were practically jumping around, pointing back where the rope had been, to Jisung, and to Sunshine.

"What the fuck does this mutt think he doin'?”

"How fuckin' pathetic!"

It only took a few more seconds of cluelessness for everything to click in Jisung's head. _ These are hunters. The competitors. They actually think they're going to catch that cat and win the prize. _ Precious memories of the collared animal flashed through his mind. _ They're calling Sunshine names, but I think all of those actually apply to _ them. Not him.

Doing his best not to show the injuries he sustained in the fall, Jisung stood. At his full height, Jisung was taller than the tubby one, but at least a foot shorter than Shrimpy.

"Sunshine. Come here." Jisung's voice dropped at least an octave from where it usually was. No wavering. No room for arguments, or questioning. Just a simple command.

The dog stiffly backed up, stopping directly next to Jisung's injured leg, still growling lowly.

Pride swelled in Jisung. It was the first time that the dog had truly responded to him without putting up a fight. _ Okay. Now for these fucks _.

A single comment distinguished itself against the rest of their aggressive rambling: "Wait. THAT'S _ THE _CAT. HE'S GOT THE FUCKING CAT."

Midnight was tucked against Jisung's injured side- he'd needed a free hand to steady them as he stood.

Jisung looked down to the small animal, just as shocked at the exclamation as the ones who made it. Unconsciously covering Midnight from witnessing the scene that would inevitably bring out the worst in the pair of humans, Jisung stepped back. 

With the same tone as earlier, Jisung leveled his gaze at the shorter one, hoping his height advantage would at least slightly translate into seriousness for the idiots. "This isn't _ that _cat."

"WHY WOULD WE BELIEVE _ YOU _, HUH?!"

"Yeah! Why would we fucking believe you?? You ruined our shit! You stupid rich fuck!" 

_ Me? Rich? WOw. That’s a new one. _ The sarcastic surprise must’ve been evident on Jisung’s face because the duo raised their voices impossibly louder. _ They obviously don’t know a _ damn _ thing they’re talking about. _

"You got the little fucker and took that collar off so no one would think it's THAT cat!"

"We're not fucking stupid! NOW HAND OVER THE LITTLE BITCH BEFORE WE TEAR YOU TO SHREDS. We don't give a fuck about you and your mutt! Give us the fucking cat!"

_ It's too fucking late (early?) for this shit. Of course they're fucking idiots. Lucky me. Lucky _ us. There was no way they would give up. 

Quick thoughts were running through Jisung's mind, things like what could've caused the two teens to be so desperate and how upset they were at the prospect of seeing something they believed to be worth so much...just slip through their fingers. Jisung could understand it. Understand their reasoning. Not their methods. 

The connections didn't make their overtly aggressive approach any less frightening. If anything, being able to read the desperation in their eyes only made Jisung's heart twist uncomfortably tight. The two would undoubtedly do anything and everything to get to Midnight, even if they were mistaking the kitten's identity.

Sunshine snapped as Shrimpy took a large step forward, still screeching obscenities. As if becoming more vulgar would make anyone do anything they didn’t want to. Or in Jisung’s case, would _ never _do.

Realizing that there was no way he could ever fight two people- especially in an area where everything was crawling with some sort of disease- Jisung quickly looked around. _ I'm about two streets away from the shack, ten minutes from the park, and fifteen from the cafe. Fuck. And that's if I go directly back. Which I'm not going to be able t- _

Tubby lunged past his friend, directly swimming at Midnight with his meaty arm. Though he was barely out of distance, Jisung jumped back, standing perpendicular to the accusers so that the kitten was as far out of their reach as possible.

"I'm not going to give him to you." His voice shook a little, but the fierceness was there. The protective quality that made the duo smile like the sick bastards they were. _They like the challenge,_ Jisung realized, belatedly horrified. _This isn't just about the rewards. They..._ _want an excuse to hurt something. someone_... He refused to acknowledge the thought. To let himself think it. 

Yes. There were people in the world that reveled in hurting others. The ones that caused tragedies and appalling amounts of pain. 

The only way to get the better of people of that mentality? **Beat them at their own game.**

Jisung jerked forward. His mind spun and he was forced to steady himself against one of the rusted fences as his entire body convulsed with the vomit escaping it.

"What the fuck bro!?"

"You think a little bit of stomach acid’s going to change this? You sick _ fuck. _GIVE IT TO US!!"

Grimly, Jisung laughed at how they were still _ so _focused on the animal. The wrong animal, even. 

_ Pathetic. _

Shrimpy shot forward, ignoring Sunshine who was ferociously biting at his ankles. Grabbing Jisung by the collar, the kid pulled him dramatically upright. The mask and hat were skewed, revealing matted black hair and dead eyes. Jisung laughed harder, wheezing between some of the sounds.

He lost it. 

His head rolled as the teen's eyebrows shot up in confusion. _ I must look absolutely fucking crazy. Ahhh....fuck it. I don't care, anymore. _

Vomit dripped down his front, onto the aggressors hand and into the new shoes he had just gotten. Jisung just cackled like a madman- loud and boisterous. Far too jovial to match the situation.

Between cackles, Jisung managed a choppy "Su- Sunsh- ine. Cut it- out. I bet they'll gi- give you fleas."

Shrimpy slapped Jisung. He didn’t stop the joyous noises; the tingling sensation only increasing the overwhelming feelings running through his body.

Vaguely, Jisung noticed Tubby approaching Sunshine. The laughing cut off abruptly. The tone of Jisung’s voice was hoarse from the acid and laughing: "Aha… ha. Don't fucking touch him." 

It was silent. 

No movements were made, as if everyone were waiting for the mad man to conduct the show. Tell them what to do. And when to do what. 

Jisung's face was set in an unimpressed, tight frown as he brought his gaze up to Shrimpy's. Tilting his head, he ran his tongue over the the acidic remnants on his lips. Physically, he may not have the advantage, but Jisung was sure his little trip had won him the mental upper hand. _And that’s all it takes._

Meeting the eyes of the muscleless twerp, Jisung rose one of his eyebrows slowly. Dramatically channeling his best ‘Bitchy Hyunjin’ vibes. The hand near his neck receded slowly.

Sunshine- _ you little brat- _ couldn't resist moving any longer and darted forward to sink his teeth into Tubby's leg. 

A deep yell and a shockingly swift quick later, Sunshine was whimpering. But unharmed.

Jisung had stuck one of his legs between the interaction, taking the brunt of the motion.

Sucking in a slow breath, Jisung turned to the fat man. "I told you. 'Don't. Touch. Him.'"

"THE BITCH BIT M-"

"Do I _ look _like I care? Get the fuck out of here before you start more shit you can't fucking handle."

As if to punctuate Jisung's sentence, Midnight hissed. 

In any other situation, Jisung would've laughed and cooed at the little sound of warning; but, in the dead of night, it actually sounded like a proper warning.

Tubby knocked his friend on the shoulder and jerked his head towards the direction they had come from. "_ Fuck _ this guy, bro."

The duo retreated, heads bent. Every few seconds they threw cautious looks over their shoulders at Jisung who stood in place; radiating fury and unmoving.

_ What the hell just happened... _

Slowly, Jisung came down from his emotional high only to realize just how awful things could've been. He fell to his knees, cradling Midnight against his chest.

The student petted the kitten, delicately, as if it could disappear at any second with any pressure that was put on his little body. 

"I'm sorry." His voice was soft and grainy, entirely too overused.

Sunshine whined, coming around to Jisung's front and sticking his nose into the human's hands.

Jisung froze. "Hyunjin...said not to touch you. I'm sorry. I'd pet y-" Sunshine whined louder, forcefully shoving his head against Jisung's lap, nuzzling into his legs.

"He! Hey! You'll get dirty. Stop. Jeez... _ I'll pet you _, I'll pet you." Running his free hand through the dogs fur and even scratching lightly on the soft spot behind his ears, Jisung finally relaxed. 

Enjoying the now peaceful ambiance of the cars and typical city rumbles in the distance, the student allowed himself to fully calm down and assess the damage that had been done:

His left leg hurt. Badly. _ Probably bleeding, but parts are all intact. _ Left arm wasn’t doing much better, both results of landing terribly from the kick. All the muscles in Jisung’s body were uncomfortably tight from being tensed too long. And there was a remaining acidic burn on his face and throat. _ Nothing that a bit of water can’t solve. _ But, there wasn’t anything severely damaged. _ Thankfully. I’m going to have to pay Chan-hyung back for the clothes, though... _

Both animals were safe. Sunshine’s white fur was a bit dirty from the path and practically rolling around in front of Jisung to get his belly rubbed; but, he was healthy and uninjured. Midnight suddenly broke out into a loud purr, getting up and stretching his back. Carefully balancing himself along Jisung's arm, he leaped onto the human's shoulders. Jisung chuckled tiredly as the kitten took the place he had initially been in: licking at Jisung's ears and purring softly. 

"How about we go home, yeah?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had half a mind to have the two mysterious competitors beat Ji up...but Jisung's a strong dude and nobody fucks with MY squirrel boii. Not even me, apparently.
> 
> °˖✧◝(⁰▿⁰)◜✧˖°


	18. My Side

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no regrets for the undertones in this chapter; it was one of my favorites to write, so far.
> 
> °˖✧◝(⁰▿⁰)◜✧˖°

It was an hour later than the expected time that Minho relieved Woojin and Chan. Changbin, in the only booth he ever willingly sat in- the corner one furthest from the door- was the only other person in the cafe. The college freshman was tapping away at his computer, an overwhelming mass papers in front of him, undoubtedly all notes regarding different aspects in his production process.

"Long time no see, Min." Woojin’s hesitant attempt to cut through the exhausted vibes Minho was excessively projecting was hardly successful. Even after knowing him longer than any of the others, Woojin was always set on being obscenely formal in the professional atmosphere. Usually. The addressed dragged his feet with a groan, acknowledging the eldest with only a short grunt. Throwing his bag haphazardly under the counter, Minho slumped over the counter.

Chan- despite the sleepiness which was,  _ for once _ , dragging him under slowly- sauntered over to the boy and delicately drooped himself across his back. Rubbing his hands lightly up and down the brunette's back, Chan cooed at the small whines coming from underneath him. "Awww, is our lil' Minnie tired?"

Minho buried himself deeper into his arms, ears turning light pink. There was no resistance, however, as Chan settled his head between the younger blades, sighing contently.

Woojin merely watched the pair, arms crossed, as he leaned back against the counter. It was always an endearing sight when they changed shifts, regardless of who was oncoming and off-going.  _ I’m glad they get along so well.  _ Reluctantly deciding to play the only 'responsible adult', Woojin cleared his throat. 

"Minho. Your dearest, second-most adorable, new employee came back and-"

The eldest was forced to suppress a laugh as Minho shot up, nearly knocking Chan out in the process. 

"Repeat that. Slower." 

Woojin huffed.  _ Bossy _ . "Jisung came by the cafe a couple of hours ago looking for a flashlight."

Answering Minho's inevitable question before it was even asked, Woojin continued, "he should be back soon. He took... 'Sunshine' ...with him." Chan laughed into Minho's shoulder as the confusion of the younger was evident.  _ What the fucks a ‘sunshine’? Did Chan name our fucking flashlights or something? What the hell... _

Minho shook his head, annoyed at the games the duo were playing. "You guys are good to go. I've got the cafe." Shrugging Chan off of him, the owner went over to Changbin.

Theatrically throwing himself onto the bench across from the bobbing producer, Minho slammed his hands on the table. A few papers fluttered off of the table at the sudden action, but they went unacknowledged. Changbin jumped, previously too far into his music to actually realize what was occurring in his surroundings.

Unwilling to wait for the younger to gather his wits and question the situation, Minho sat back and crossed his arms, an eyebrow raised. 

"How long have you been here, Bin?"

"Too long. Felix dragged me here, then left me."

"Awww. Is our Changbinnie-binnie lonely? Good 'ole Minho is here~"

"Shut uppp" Changbin groaned out, dropping his head directly onto the table. His tone wasn't at all serious, though, closer to a whine than anything.

Unable- or rather,  _ unwilling-  _ to restrain himself, Minho slid out of his booth to sit next to the boy. It didn't take any strength at all to adjust the drained body to be draped against his. 

It felt almost perfect, honestly, the way that Changbin's head fit into the crook of Minho's neck. As always, the younger held no qualms about completely leaning into him. Minho had no arguments against it either.

"I've got this huge project due at the end of the week... it's killing me." Changbin mumbled, rubbing his cheek against Minho's shoulder in frustration. Minho merely returned the action, nuzzling against Changbin's head. The elder hummed, letting him know he was still listening.

"It's like… no matter what I do to this piece… it doesn't come out right. I even asked Channie-hyung to look at it… he suggested changing the bass instruments to make it heavier but-" The producer rambled on and on, not even caring if he was going to get feedback, just appreciating the chance to truly vocalize the issues he was having. 

During the continuous flow, which was so fast that it made Minho's head spin, he set his hand on the student's, prying apart the fingers one by one with every sentence that passed. Eventually, Minho was able to calmly massage out the indentations from the other's fingernails and slip his hand into Changbin's. 

At some point, the masses of papers had become overwhelming and there had been no way for him to pull himself out of the sea of notes. But with Minho, it was easy. The elder was such a solid driving force in everything he did, it was hard for Changbin to withhold his worries. The rant eventually died as the words became slower and whinier, a classic trademark of Changbin being out of energy.

Minho repositioned them, pulling their hands apart, so that he could drape an arm around the boy's shoulders, still maintaining Changbin's head on his shoulder. It was peaceful, now that the producer's thoughts were out in the open. Like the burden was shared, instead of creating an unbearable black hole in a singular person's mind.

For a few moments, Minho's thoughts went to Jisung. It was bothering him. But he couldn’t figure out why. Or worse, how to stop the issues. He’d been trying...but the process was incredibly slow. Slower than paint drying. Maybe, as slow as stalactites form.  _ I wonder what he's doing... why did he need a flashlight? He couldn't have waited a few hours until sunrise?... And he's got school tomorrow. What the hell is he thinking? _

"Min?"

He hummed, lost in questions he had no answers to.

"Minho?" Changbin tried again, squirming until he could look up at the elder's face. Minho was frowning. A look so lost that it caused sadness to grip Changbin as he had no idea what had caused the sudden change of emotion.

A light jab to the nose quickly snapped Minho's attention back to the present. Dramatic incredulity took over Minho features as he pulled away from Changbin, inching to the edge of the bench. The younger whined at the loss of contact, a strong pout the contender to Minho's growing smirk. "You wanna play  _ that _ game, now, do you?" He held his fingers up, wiggling them obscenely.

Changbin's pout faded into horror as he all but jumped to the wall side of the booth. "You wouldn't dare, now would you? Kind Sir as you are?"

It took incredible willpower for Minho not to burst out in a laugh of incredulity at the outrageous nickname. "Well, my dearest, you know me not as well as you think you do. For I am the least kind of all the ‘Sir’s in this establishment."

Hands held up in prayer, Changbin put on his best 'puppy dog' look. "But if I am your most dear, how could you  _ even begin _ to think to do such terrible things to me? My dearest Sir?"

Part of Minho was amazed that Changbin had managed to hold character, without breaking in the slightest. Still, the 'Sir' that he truly was, made him inch forward until he was close enough for them to share breaths. His arms basically wrapped around Changbin- one on the back of the booth and the other on the table; close, but not touching.

The cornered brat had the gall to bat his eyelashes, raising his voice in an attempt to portray fake innocence. "Sir?"

All at once, Minho wrapped his arms around the younger, pulling him into his body. He even went as far to wrap a leg around Changbin's waist so that the boy had no chance to escape as he got tickled.

Changbin writhed, choked laughter echoing around the cafe.

In the background, the eldest couple were watching them with fond smiles.  _ "Take care of him. He's been working too much and needs a breather. And some sunlight." _ Is what Felix said when he all but dragged a pale and stressed Seo Changbin into Minho's cafe just after noon. It was obvious Felix had gone straight to the studio after his shift, feeling the insatiable need to protect the producer from himself. And, now the elder's could see why Felix had insisted Changbin continue his work at the cafe.

"O- okAY!!! KI- KinD- D SI-SIIIIR." Through breathless giggles, Changbin finally managed a full sentence which had Minho pausing in his actions.

"Hmmm?" Minho laid his forehead on Changbin's shoulder, heavy exhales going straight down the boy's shirt, making the younger shudder.

"Sir, I beg of you-"  _ Wrong _ . The tickling resumed for a good couple seconds, before Minho felt merciful enough to pause once again. 

"Try again, dearest."

The tone changed from fake adoration to a rugged, sardonic rasp. "Sir, you are the most-"

"How dare you-" The touches faded into light, inconsistent brushes. Minho moved his fingers up to Changbin's neck, directly targeting the boy's most sensitive area. In the lowest voice he could manage, Minho spoke softly into Changbin's ear: "you think you can talk to  _ me  _ like that?" 

It was that point that Minho knew he had won. Changbin melted into his body, allowing his full body weight to fall backwards with a long sigh. Minho easily caught him, wrapping his arms tightly around the other, chuckling as he swayed them gently. 

"You think  _ you _ can talk to  _ me _ like that? Do you want me to pass out?"

"Maybe." Changbin huffed, the sound too weak to portray any offense. "If that's what it takes for you to take a break, Bin. This isn't healthy."

" _ Life _ isn't healthy."

"That's not an excuse and you know it. Now, I'm going to get you something to eat and drink and you’re going to stop looking at your computer for like  _ twenty whole minutes _ . Okay?"

Minho knew Changbin was frowning, thinking of all the progress that he could make during that time. So, he shook the younger rambunctiously before untangling himself and standing up. 

Hands on his hips, Minho looked expectantly at Changbin, who was sprawled out on his back. Bending at the waist until their noses touched, Minho raised an eyebrow once again. "Hmmmm? What do you say?"

"Okay." Satisfied, he straightened up- grinning deeply. As he turned to retrieve a snack platter of Changbin's favorite foods, he heard it.

"What a  _ Kind Sir _ .” 

“That’s it! You’re getting broccoli and tomato juice!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now that everyone has been at least introduced, can you guess who my SKZ bias is? I'm curious~
> 
> °˖✧◝(⁰▿⁰)◜✧˖°


	19. 건들지마 (Don't Touch Me)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jisung's still a bit... drained from his fruitless excursion.
> 
> °˖✧◝(⁰▿⁰)◜✧˖°

The fifteen minute estimate became a miserable forty-five minutes due to the way that Jisung was limping along. He made sure to take the well lit, main streets as much as possible, for fear of passing out in a back alley and getting mauled by disease-ridden rats. Still, he cringed whenever cars passed by- even if they were on the other side of the street.

The emotional high left him feeling drained and barely capable of functioning. Thankfully, the constant purring gave the boy something to focus on other than the state of his body. Midnight was constantly kneading at him, the sensation lulling Jisung into a pleasantly apathetic state where his feet did all the work.

Sunshine followed directly next to Jisung, expertly matching whatever pace the human set. At one intersection the tired student nearly turned the wrong direction- as if he were going back to the park- but a high whine from Sunshine set him back on the correct path. "Thanks", he had mumbled.

Through the glass, Jisung could see that the cafe was occupied more than it usually was. Especially given that it was nearly five. The increase in patrons- from the usual _ zero- _ should've been expected. But, regardless, Jisung had _ really _ hoped that he would be able to slip in and out, only at most disturbing one person. Maybe two, if he really wanted to count Woojin and Chan as separate entities.

The horrifyingly loud _ ding _ above the doorway announced his arrival. 

With the announcement came every person in the establish snapping their attention to him, completely dropping what they were doing before. And in Hyunjin's case, he quite literally dropped his fork. Onto the floor. Where it clattered around, flinging whip cream across an impressive expanse of concrete. 

Not sensing- or completely uncaring of- the rising tension, Sunshine scampered over to Hyunjin happily. The dog sniffed a couple times at the fallen utensil before barking excitedly and spinning circles at his owner's feet.

"SUNSHINE!! WHAT HAPPENED TO YOU??" Hyunjin's screech was followed by the stressed boy leaning down from his stool to pick up the overly energetic pup who had _ no issue _ licking all over the boys face. Almost immediately, the worries were washed away and appreciative giggles replaced them. Still, Hyunjin ran his hands worriedly through the dog's coat to check for injuries and undesirable substances. One particularly thick clump of dirt was pulled away from Sunshine's underside with a pair of whines and tight frowns; but, nothing else was found to be wrong.

Jisung- feeling as if he was intruding on a private scene- tore his gaze away to look around the rest of the cafe.

Woojin and Chan were together in a booth to his right, with Chan snoring unforgivingly against Woojin's shoulder. The older had his arm wrapped loosely around the tired barista, lifting his hand to offer Jisung a small, light-hearted wave. Jisung gave a stiff nod in return.

Still at the same table as before, Changbin was tapping away at his computer. The busy student only briefly raised an eyebrow at Jisung's state before returning back to his project with a small shake of his head. _ Hello to you, too. _

And Minh- _ woah _.

Minho was walking around the counter, his face pulled into a strictly controlled expression of curious indifference. Like he had plenty of questions- which Jisung couldn’t blame him for- but had the graciousness not to ask them all at once. At least, for now.

The appearance of the owner made Jisung freeze in recognition. The button down, which was carelessly unbuttoned over a plain white tshirt, exactly matched the one _ he _was wearing. The elder’s freshly pressed black slacks only served to enforce the difference between "professional adult" and "kid who played in their parents closest". 

Jisung wrapped his arms around himself. No way could he hide the dirt- and blood that was probably somewhere- but… it's the effort that counts.... _ right? _

Midnight chose that moment to wake up with a deafening cry directly into Jisung's ear. "Alright, _ alright. _ Hold on." Obliging the rambunctious animal and thankful for a distraction, Jisung pulled Midnight down from his shoulders to be cradled in his arms.

The kitten, however, was _ not _ having it.

Minho, to his own surprise, had just entered a boundary of what Midnight apparently considered safe. The black ball of fur gathered himself and jumped across the gap onto the cafe owner. _ Oh shit! _ The movement was entirely unexpected to both parties as Jisung frantically tried to catch the animal midair and Minho merely froze in place. Their eyes followed Midnight as he deftly landed directly onto Minho's shoulders, repeating the actions he had been doing to Jisung most of the night. While the added weight and rumbling purrs didn’t phase Minho, a small lick to the back of his ear surely did.

The boy spasmed, nearly smacking Jisung in the face as he jerked around to make the sensation stop. "Knock it off!" The tone was too thin to convince Jisung Minho was truly annoyed, moreso shocked; but, the kitten complied anyway. Not without a seemingly mocking meow, however.

Once the kitten settled down, Minho had the opportunity to level a contrasting look of seriousness at Jisung. Who simply shrunk further into himself- if it was even possible. There should've been holes in the concrete floor from how hard he was focused on it.

"What happ-"

"HERE'S YOUR FLASHLIGHT."

Their sentences collided, as did the flashlight with Minho's abdomen. 

Of course, Jisung hadn't been watching where he extended his hand- too busy cringing at the sting in his throat- and the elder hadn't expected to be speared, either.

Minho grunted on impact, but didn't comment on the action. Instead, he grasped the arm Jisung had swung with, in both hands, lightly gripping around the boy's bony wrist.

As if the younger would be easily broken with the wrong move, Minho slowly rolled up the sleeve and twisted Jisung's arm to examine the collection of bruises. The dirt from the path covered most of the damage; but still, the colors shone through like he had tye dyed his arm. The younger kept a straight face, almost zombied-out.

Less gently, Minho pressed his index finger into various parts of Jisung's arm. Specific spots caused pain shot up the boy's arm. _ No reaction. _ That would take energy. And energy was something that Jisung certainly did _ not _ have after recent events.

"Does this hurt?" The voice was hushed, as if he didn't want everyone in the cafe to hear the question. But they certainly could. It was pin drop silent except for Chan's constantly resonating snores.

"Yes."

"Where?"

Minho then rubbed his fingers over a particularly nasty-looking spot, as if trying to force some type of physical reaction. But Jisung gave none, even if he was writhing internally.

The grip returned to being light, barely there; but, the elder wasn't very happy with being ignored. Especially, when _ his _ employee looked like he had dove headfirst into a dumpster. And _ maybe _even gotten beaten up by it on the way out. Sunshine and Midnight looked like they were intact and healthy; however, since Minho had known Jisung, the younger seemed to constantly be in a perpetually worsening condition.

"I said, where?" His fingers ran over the same bruise- just above Jisung's inner wrist, exactly where he'd fallen earlier- this time, with an accompanied sharp stab of a fingernail.

Jisung jerked away. Or tried to. Minho tightened his hold and all but dragged Jisung over to the counter to sit on a stool. At that point, Jisung's brain all but shut off. If they were going to treat him like a doll, he’d follow along. The flashlight he'd assaulted Minho with was pried out of his hands, placed none too nicely on the counter next to him. His backpack was pulled off of his shoulders and set at his feet. A few seconds later there was a glass of water being held out, directly in front of his nose.

"Drink it." And Jisung did. Shakily, he held the glass in both hands and downed it in one gulp. 

Hyunjin, from behind him gasped. Undoubtedly, the snarky boy was gapingly staring at Jisung. Be it for his actions or how much of a mess he was, Jisung had no idea. _ I don't care... _

"Hey!" Minho sharply grabbed the glass back, a frown on his face. "Not all at once, idiot." The tone was lighter, but the worry slipping through was noticed by the entire establishment.

Chan woke up with the yell- knocking his knee into the table and nearly falling out of the booth. Woojin quickly pulling the blonde back to him, the only reason Chan didn’t completely faceplant. "Woah, there. Careful."

_ "JISUNG!!" _

For the second time in a singular minute, someone was yelling at him. It was starting to push the worst buttons in the boy, but he bit back the rude retort forming at the tip of his tongue.

While Minho went to refill the glass, Jisung turned in his seat to face Chan. The ache throughout his body worsened with the movement, but younger’s face remained devoid of all emotions.

Concerned and slightly more calmed, Chan made his way over to the boy. Making sure none of his actions were too fast, the elder reached around Jisung and pulled a small handful of napkins off of the counter. As if they had telepathically communicated, Minho handed the refilled water across to Chan.

Still with slow movements within Jisung's vision, Chan dipped a napkin into the water and brought it up to the student's face.

"I'm going to get rid of this...stuff. Okay?" Jisung didn't respond, only blinking slowly as he stared at the soggy napkin.

Chan waved his free hand in front of the boy's face. "Jisung. I need you to say something.” The blonde lowered the napkin at the lack of consent. “Do you want to do it yourself? Or go to the bathroom? We understand if you don't want to be out here. That's okay. Whatever you're most comfortable with."

Of course, it would be Chan to be the one to baby him. To make sure that everything was okay, both internally and externally. Like he was some type of doctor without even trying to be. _ At least a baby is better than a doll. Somewhat more autonomous. _While the careful nature of the elder was endearing, Jisung wasn't in the mood for it. The patience it had taken to deal with the dumbasses earlier had drained far too much of his mental reservoirs. But, he didn't want to hurt Chan, either. 

_ That. _ Would _ certainly _be going too far.

As tired as he was… _ of everything… _ Jisung refused to lash out with the pain that was swirling within him. _ They don’t deserve that. _

So instead of responding and facing the acidic burn that was still raging in his throat, Jisung simply nodded and stood up. Somehow managing to stand without wobbling, he cautiously limped around the counter towards the bathroom. 

He was too dirty. To filthy for being in the public. Especially Minho’s clinically white cafe. **Unacceptable.** Not up to standards. 

It's not like he didn't understand exactly what was twisting his gut. It was a feeling he was all too familiar with- the overwhelming shame of not being able to raise his gaze and face those around him. To not be able to walk around confidently as if he was proud of himself. He was unable to radiate the person that _ sometimes _ floated to the surface. As if he wasn't ready to truly accept his position in society for what it actually was. Instead, Jisung played the game of falsely living until it was 'his time'. A time that had yet to come. And possibly never would.

Jisung chuckled at the thought as he reached the bathroom, flipping the switch on in a lackadaisical fashion. No matter where Jisung went, no matter what he wore, he would always end up feeling the same.

The boy had been so spaced out, lost in his reflection, that he didn't notice one of the elders walking down the hall. Not until a fresh stack of towels were dropped into the sink in front of him, clean paper towels fluttering down on top.

This time, Jisung jumped, looking wide eyed at Minho. The owner leaned against the frame of the door, arms crossed. And that _ damn _apathetic expression was back.

"You can use those." Minho nodded at the stack, hair falling across his forehead, as if it wasn't obvious what he was talking about. "Ah. I forgot." The elder scrunched his eyebrows together, frustrated that he hadn't accomplished everything he'd intended to at the correct time. "I'll leave your bag outside the door with another bag for my clothes. Just put them in there and leave them in the supply closet when you’re done. I'll pick them up when my shift's over."

Jisung was back to hunching over and staring at the floor. _ Of course, they're Minho's clothes. We're fucking matching... how could they _ not _ be? I _ am _ an idiot. _ . **Pathetic.** Just another thing that Jisung had fucked up.

At the emotions too obviously flashing across Jisung's poorly hidden face, Minho softened. Jisung had barely spoken since entering his cafe. The rest of the time, he'd walked_ \- stumbled- _ around like a zombie, just following commands. It had surprised Minho that the younger had even taken the initiative to walk into the bathroom by himself. Chan had made to follow, ever the worrier, but this was _ Minho's _ issue. _ His _ cafe, _ his _ employee, his… _ whatever _.

Taking the lead, Minho cleared his throat, "alright. Take off your shirt." Stepping into the room, careful not to brush against Jisung, the elder shut the door softly behind him. 

In the mirror, Jisung's face looked almost comical. His eyes were blown wide, eyebrows shot up.

Minho stepped back to give the boy room and held his arms up in defense. "Hey. I just want to make sure you don't have any severe injuries." _ Since I doubt you'll care enough to check for yourself. _ "I can get Chan or Woojin, if you'd prefer. I won't be offended. But, _ someone _needs to check." His voice was gentle, a strong contrast from its usual brash nature.

Shrugging, Jisung began taking the shirt off. Or, attempting to. His fingers shook and the focus which Jisung was trying so hard to maintain was slipping. The delirium from being sleep and food deprived was setting in tenfold, now that he was away from crowds and in an environment he was- at least, somewhat- comfortable in, even if it did currently include one imposing Lee Minho. 

Huffing, Minho pried himself off of the wall and closed the distance between him and the struggling boy. He stopped when he was close enough that Jisung's hair moved slightly with every exhale.

"Would you mind if I help?" Minho was careful not to himself onto the other; instead, gave him an option. Not that he wouldn’t adamantly protest if Jisung dissented.

But the boy only hopped around, with the help of the counter to avoid putting too much weight onto his (probably swollen and incredibly ugly) ankle. Minho put his arms out to help steady him, but-_ for once _\- thought twice about touching the younger while he was in such a sensitive state.

Jisung _ still _avoided eye contact, but gave a nod once he ceased moving.

Wordlessly, Minho nodded and began working the buttons open, working with care in case Jisung had broken ribs- or worse. 

The entire time, Jisung just hung his head. The only sign he was even conscious were the small twitches in his fingers every few seconds. At the last button, Minho accidentally brushed his hand against Jisung’s stomach- even the feather-light had the boy shrinking back towards the counter.

"Sorry. Okay, this has to come off. Right arm, first." It seemed like the right side had been considerably less favored in every on of Jisung’s movements, so it made sense to start with the least painful side. Still, Jisung grimaced as the filth-covered shirt was pulled away from his skin, leaving him bare- save for some remnants of vomit- in front of someone who was nearly a stranger. 

With the considerable amount of attention Minho put into taking the button down off, the process was slow, but pain-free. And that's what mattered the most.

Jisung felt like he was drowning in shame. Unable and unwilling to surface in case he had to face the present situation in full. He knew exactly what the elder was seeing: the ribs, the skin pulled too tight over _ everything _ , the lack of muscles, the traces of vomit… _ everything. _

The sharp intake of breath was expected. The horrified expression on Minho's face was expected. But not _ where _ it was directed. The elder was looking over Jisung's shoulder at the reflection in the mirror.

Hesitantly, Jisung looked over his shoulder. _ Of course _ . His shoulder blades stuck out and the back of his ribs were repulsive and unsurprisingly evident; but, there was also a clear imprint of a footprint on his back. The mark created a colorful pattern in relation to the different amount of pressure that had been put into the kick. In a sick way, the mark was fascinating. Entrancing, for both of the boys. _ Those had to be brand new _. The edges of the bruise were fresh, still perfect representations of the asshole's unworn tread.

"Ji..." It came out as a nearly inaudible exhale. Their eyes met in the mirror and Jisung watched as Minho's expression cycled through shock, concern, and settled back into it's typical apathetic neutrality. However, this time, it was far less stable and Jisung could see the worry in the the slight wrinkle between Minho's eyebrows.

"...It'll be fine."_ Not him. But, it. _ His voice cracked and was far too loud, but the younger felt the need to say _ something _ to get rid of the other's expression. He could deal with anger and apathy. But, not _ that. _

This time, Minho didn't hesitate. Gently, but resolute, he reached around and brought the younger boy into his arms. He was _ freezing _. Shaking and thin. Injured and in need of care. Some part of Minho resonated with Chan and was amused that his friend’s caretaker tendencies had bled through to him.

Jisung wriggled, squeaking sounds of discomfort coming from him. Minho let go immediately, dropping his hands to his side with immediate regret. _ Too far _ . He should've asked first. _ Who knows what he just went through... _

Shuffling his feet, Jisung looked at Minho for a _ whole, solid _second before settling his gaze somewhere over the elder's shoulder.

"...You'll get dirty.... I’ve ruined enough of your clothes today..." The statement faded out at the end, but Minho got the picture. A piece of art that he wanted to set on fire so that it would never be seen again. _ Ever. _ A stab of _ something _ flowed through him and he reached out to the boy, scoffing. The embrace was tighter, this time. As if he could lose him at any second.

His arms wrapped around Jisung's shoulders and lower back, cautious of the bruise that covered the majority of the skin. Dropping his head onto the Jisung's shoulder, Minho let out a long, warm breath. The shorter shuddered, his head knocking slightly against Minho's. It was awkward, tense, and unreciprocated. But, appreciated nonetheless. On both sides.

Midnight lightly climbed over onto Jisung's shoulders. Like a scarf, the kitten wrapped himself completely around Jisung's neck. The end of the tail landed just in front of Minho's nose, making the elder pull away slightly, spasming slightly as he sneezed towards the door.

"Damn you, you little demon."

Unexpectedly, Jisung dropped _ his _ head, nearly hitting Minho's chest as he shook with silent laughter.

"Hmm? What's so funny?" The elder leaned back slightly more and tilted his head, faintly amused- and incredibly intrigued- at the day's first true reaction from Jisung.

After a couple of seconds, Jisung gathered himself enough to rasp out, "I'm glad I'm not the only one who thinks he can be a... 'little demon'."

"Trust me, the mischief he gets up to... you wouldn't believe it."

Jisung kept laughing to himself, eventually grimacing at the burning it caused in his throat.

Reluctant to break the moment, but impatient to get the worst of it over with, Minho sighed. Disconnecting their bodies, he backed to look up and down Jisung's torso- objectively, this time. Grasping Jisung's left arm, he lifted it up, occasionally rotating it to inspect the entire surface area. Then, repeated with the same procedure on the right side. Minho hummed through it, hoping the lack of silence would stop Jisung from retreating away from him, mentally.

"Can you turn? I need to see if any skin on your back got broken open." The younger obliged, using the counter again to help him turn in place. _ I need to check his leg, too. For sure. _

"I'm going to touch your back."

Accordingly, Minho ran his fingertips up and down Jisung's back, knocking off stray bits of dirt and pebbles that had embedded themselves in the boy's skin. _ That's good. At least, there aren’t any cuts. But that bruise has got to suck... reminds me of Changbin when we were younger... _

"Does it hurt?"

Jisung shook his head.

"Are you _ sure _?"

Jisung paused for a second before shaking his head, persistently sticking to his initial response. But, Minho wasn't an idiot. The stiff movements from the younger couldn't _ possibly _ be _ only _ from a leg or foot issue.

The elder ghosted his palm over the print, pressing lightly against Jisung's back. His hand covered exactly the length of the shoe. As soon as pressure was put onto the remarkably warm mark- Jisung all but jumped out of his body, jerking suddenly away with a yelp. Midnight hissed- as if voicing the boy’s inner thoughts- hair standing up like a porcupine along his back; clearly, alarmed at the unexpected behavior.

On his good foot, the boy spun until his back was placed up against the door, chest rising and falling at a ridiculously high rate. 

This time, Jisung had no issues meeting Minho's gaze. Completely forgetting about the pain in his throat, he pointed at Minho incredulously, "ARE YOU HAPPY WITH YOURSELF? YES, IT FUCKING HURTS."

Minho mirrored the motion, but with ten times the petty. "Are _ you _ happy?! Because _ I'm _ not." Dropping his finger and regaining _ some _ composure, he continued, "how do you expect to get better if you lie to me about your injuries?"

That caused Jisung to deflate against the door, sliding down until he was a small pile on the floor. The aggressively caring comment struck him in a place he _ didn’t even know _ he had.

Feeling a tsunami of emotions that he didn't have time to deal with, Minho dropped down to the same level next to Jisung. Leaning on the door, as well. A clear boundary between them, he wrapped his arms around bent knees. Jisung was staring at his hands, twisting them in his lap. But, Minho settled his gaze on the entirety of the boy, wishing that he could just take an eraser to each of the younger’s problems and make them just… disappear.

Unable to do so, Minho rambled about the first thing that came to his mind; unwilling to sit in silence for fear of what his own brain would force on him:

"You know... you remind me a lot of Changbin. When he was younger." He paused to see if the younger was going to comment, but continued after a few beats of silence. "He was really bad about getting into fights. At first, it was for good reasons… he had good intentions. Like saving other kids from... bullies and stuff. But, then he just... lost it. Like a switch got flipped and he couldn't live without fighting. I guess he got addicted to the adrenaline or something." Minho shook his head, remembering all the times that an injured Changbin had snuck into his house, too afraid to go home or to one of the other boys'. "He used to crawl through my window all bloody... even kept extra uniforms in my closet with a first aid kit. I think that's why Woojin got so good at medical things... damn Changbin could never keep his mouth shut even when he was outnumbered. Felix was like that, too.... Hell, he still can’t keep his mouth shut. But Felix is a lot more... special. In a different way. To him. To…. us."

At the mention of his twin, Jisung laid his head back against the door- careful not to smush the kitten. He closed his eyes; but, tilted his head towards the elder to show he was still listening. Imagining.

"It was...The day Felix came. He changed. Something inside of them just... clicked. Changbin's only been in one fight since. And that's only because some dumbass was making fun of Felix's accent when he first got here. Now... they're inseparable." The adoration, respect, and yearning was clear- unbridled- in Minho's voice and posture. Felix, somehow, had managed to tame whatever was within Changbin. And, seemingly, had maintained doing so throughout the years. "Their connection’s amazing, honestly, if you ever see them together- which I guarantee you will, now that you’re _ here- I _… just watch them for a bit." Minho shook his head- expression dreamy- and reiterated:

"It's amazing..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jisung being a hypocrite? Nah, never. Here starts Minsung's journey about being more honest with themselves and those around them!  
And the answer to my question from last chapter~ It's Changbin! I absolutely adore the little muscle pig and how he's (slightly) vertically challenged.
> 
> °˖✧◝(⁰▿⁰)◜✧˖°


	20. Small Things

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Their connection’s amazing, honestly, if you ever see them together- which I guarantee you will, now that you’re here- I… just watch them for a bit." Minho shook his head- expression dreamy- and reiterated:   
"It's amazing..."

"...seems like it." Just from the short time he spent with Felix, he could tell that his twin had an amazing skill of fostering special connections between himself and those around him. Hearing Minho's side of that only confirmed Jisung's thoughts on the matter.

The question came out of nowhere, shocking the younger out of his romantic reverie: "can you take your pants off?" Jisung sputtered, wordlessly, looking at the other with a look of exaggerated shock. 

The tension between them seemed to decrease the longer they were together but, _ surely, _ they weren't close enough to be ... naked buddies? ...????!!!!

Minho had the decency to blush. Straightening up, he waved his hands between them as if to erase the ridiculous suggestion.

"Not like that!” Minho brushed his hair back, obviously flustered. “I just want to check.... make sure we won't need any extra supplies for your leg." A small patch of skin was peeking out between the space of the younger's pants and socks; the discoloration and bulging was evident, the swelling pushing against the elastic bands on the clothes. He continued his defense, gesturing more than usual: "I know it can be hard.... to take things off.. when you're...... So, I'm here.... if you wan-.. _ need _help."

Jisung dropped his head onto his arms, effectively peeling his gaze away from the internal combustion that the elder seemed to be going through. _ This is so awkward. It looks like he's going to explode. _ And Jisung felt no different. He laughed, a random image of a mini, shoulder standing, Minho poofing into a pile of confetti just because he offered to assist someone. _ Some guardian angel, he is. _

His own reluctance suppressed due to the overwhelming amount in the other, Jisung acquiesced. Shortly looking at the elder, he gave him a tight smile. "I'd appreciate it." Quickly remembering to add his own boundaries, Jisung hurriedly followed the statement, "Not with my pants but like...my shoes and socks. It hurts to bend over."

Minho nodded, relieved that he hadn't put himself out there just to be unashamedly rejected (or worse, mocked). 

Gently, the elder tapped the toes closest to him. As if the younger had read his mind, the leg straightened. Minho scooted backwards, his entire focus going towards expanding the shoe as much as the laces allowed, in an effort to make the removal as easy as possible.

Jisung grimaced at every little movement, tensely staring at the cabinets next to him as if they would help them take his mind off the throbbing pain that now included occasional stabs thanks to the added jostling. His hands were tightly balled up at his sides; undoubtedly, leaving deep indentations in his palms.

"I can do this really slowly or-"

"Just do it."

Not needing to be told twice, Minho place one hand over the boy's shin and yanked with his other. _ It’d be worse if it only partially came off. _

To his surprise, Jisung only sharply inhaled, hands turning white with tension. The boy didn’t react any further, even as his sock- which was fortunately, and unfortunately, the compressive type due to it being an athletic style- was rolled off of his swollen foot.

Minho did his best to keep a neutral face, not wanting to cause the younger any added stress, but the sight in front of him was nothing less than shocking. Insatiably curious, Minho grabbed the hem of Jisung's pant leg to raise it, _ needing _ to know the extent of the damage; but, his arm was quickly stopped. 

Jisung was staring at him, wide-eyed. And Minho was only confused for a split second before realizing what the other was thinking. Still, he didn't release the article. Instead, Minho leveled a completely serious gaze at the brunette, unwilling to negotiate. "I'm not going to take them off. But I need to see how bad this is." The grip softened, but didn't fully loosen. "I'm just going to raise them to your knee." _ I think we're going to need to go buy a few more ice packs and _ definitely _ more painkillers. I have no idea how he was even able to get here. _

It wasn't hard to see the disbelief and lack of trust on Jisung's face, but Minho was unwavering. No way would he let someone under _ his _care get away with being injured. Especially, when they didn't have the capabilities to help themselves. With a weary frown, Jisung pulled his hand away, slowly settling back into his former position. This time, however, he crossed his arms over his chest, willing himself to feel at least slightly more comfortable in the foriegn situation.

Midnight, nearly crushed against the door when Jisung leaned back, tumbled down his chest to land on top of the boy’s arms. Thankfully, the kitten landed on the upper part of his forearm, or else Jisung would've- without doubt- been rolling in pain. Just thinking about the other outcomes that could’ve happened made Jisung shiver.

Lowering the animal to his lap, Jisung began petting it to take his mind off of the pain that had considerably increased since the compression had been taken away.

While the younger was distracted, Minho managed to shimmy the fabric up, revealing the worst of all Jisung's injuries. If the footprint had been a sickeningly transfixing, beautiful mark; this was a gruesome contusion of horrific proportions. Cuts- new and old- littered both the front and back of the thin limb. Some were a healing, muted red. Others were reopened, causing blood to fall in thin streams down his leg- even now that it had been immobile for quite some time. The worst were nearly black, crusty with a repulsive mixture of gravel and blood.

There was a thick bulge on the outer side of Jisung's ankle, darkly discolored and nearly comedic in its appearance. Minho didn't dare to directly touch it, taking Jisung’s faint, strained breathing as a sign that he needed to move on.

Tongue thick and dry in his mouth, Minho looked away from the injuries and cleared his throat. He felt nauseous just beginning to theorize about how the younger's leg had become that way. There had been very few times that he'd ever seen _ Changbin's _ body look so bad. Then, again, Jisung didn't exactly strike him as a skilled fighter.

Before he could begin to speak, Jisung beat him to the punch: "it's bad, isn't it." Not a question- the younger obviously had a solid idea about the extent of his injuries even if he’d been stubbornly doing everything to avoid directly looking at them. Jisung just wanted the confirmation- a second opinion to assure him that it was real and not just some nightmare.

Minho hummed an affirmative note. There was no point in lying for false reassurance. The cuts, bruises, and swelling all needed to be treated as soon as possible.

Midnight was placed on the ground, next to Jisung, with a disgruntled _ merow _.

Gathering his feet under his body, wobbly from exhaustion, Jisung used the counter top to stand.

Minho remained on the ground, stunned at both: the sudden movements and thoughts of possible treatments racing through his head.

Once the difference in height hit him, Minho jumped to his feet, placing his hands on the shoulders of the boy who was dazedly swaying.

"Woah, there. What do you think you're doing?" The tone was harsh, uncontrollable due to the worry roughening it.

"I..." Jisung shook his head, trying to right himself. His attempts to focus on Minho’s forehead- too afraid of looking the other in the eyes- were nearly pointless. The student’s eyes wouldn’t focus longer than a few seconds at a time. "I need to shower. G- get the blood off... the dirt off. It's going to get worse if I just sit here. I- can't let-"

The alarm on Jisung's watch rang.

The sound made both boys jump; Jisung nearly toppling over as he accidentally put more pressure on his foot than it could take.

Minho, already in close proximity, slid his right arm under Jisung's left, effortlessly taking the brunt of the boy's (nearly nonexistent) weight.

Refusing to let himself lose his cool for the second time that day, the elder sighed heavily through his nose. Pulling Jisung back to a fully standing position, weight off his injured foot, Minho used his free hand to force the boy to look at him. 

Which of course he didn't. As soon as Minho placed his hand under Jisung's chin, the younger's expression immediately scrunched- as if he knew what was coming and _ definitely _ was preparing to refuse.

After a few more obnoxious beeps that had Midnight irately screeching on the floor, the watch silenced.

"You think you can shower, when you can barely stand?"

Muffed, due to Minho's grip, Jisung halfheartedly declared: "I'll sit."

Minho pulled his hand away and rolled his eyes. None too gently, he poked the younger directly on the bruise which was increasingly reddening on the side of his face.

Despite his rising deliria, Jisung landed a shockingly accurate swat to the back of Minho’s hand. “Stop ittt~.” 

With a smirk, he played into the annoyance, "stop what?"

"That!" Jisung gestured randomly, frowning at nothing in particular.

"Not until _ you _ stop." The smirk faded into something resembling a pleading expression. "Let me help you." A deep sigh resounded through the room. Silence settled once again, before the elder spoke- the word, barely audible between them: "...Please."

Minho waited a second, letting his words sink in before adding, "if not for me... then... for them. I'm sure Channie-hyung's out there freaking out and Woojin's barely stopping him from breaking down the door. That guy has more strength than you’d expect. Don't underestimate Channie-hyung~" He ended his statement playfully, hoping to lighten the stifling mood. 

"If you ask like that..." A small, but sincere smile grew on Jisung's face as he cautiously met Minho's gaze. "...I guess."

Relieved to finally received the full permission he needed, Minho immediately transitioned into professional mood. Even if he wasn't as skilled as Woojin, he'd spent plenty of time practicing on Changbin to know the basic how-to's of recuperation.

Gently, Minho pulled Jisung over to the closed toilet, one hop at a time. Once he was settled, the elder stepped away, leaning back on the wall, arms crossed in thought as he stared at the mass of injuries.

"You can't shower." Jisung looked at him, incredulous. Minho raised an index finger to his lips. "Yet. The cuts on your leg are still bleeding and you've lost a lot of blood. Obviously you can't get an IV here; so, you need to keep as much of the rest of your blood as possible."

"So..." the boy blanched, losing all color in his face. "You mean you want me to _ stay _ like this?" Looking at the dried vomit and blood, Minho could understand why Jisung seemed so appalled.

"If you shower, they'll just bleed more-"

"So sponge bath or something?" Jisung cringed, but looked at Minho with a hopeful expression. In no way did he want to continue being disgusting; too appalled at himself to even breathe for fear of dirtying the space further.

Annoyed at being unable to finish his explanation, Minho placed his hands on his hips and bent over, face mere inches from Jisung's. 

"Can I finish, your highness?"

Jisung pulled his head away, unimpressed at the nickname. "Yes, Sir~"

Exasperated and reminded of Changbin- _ why are they so fucking similar? It's horrifying. _\- Minho righted himself.

"You can use the towels I brought in earlier to clean up, but at least wait until tomorrow for a proper shower. The first aid kit is under the sink and soap is on the counter. We're going to have to get Woojin to look at your ankle soon."

Jisung nodded at each point, reluctantly agreeing to what Minho was saying. He didn't look happy, but in his state, it wasn't surprising.

"_ AH! _ My alarm!" The yell was more of a croak, at this point, but was startling nonetheless.

Eyebrow raised, Minho wondered what the hell could be _ so _important about a timer in the current situation. "What?"

"I'VE GOT TO GO TO SCHOOL. I MISSED YESTERDAY AND I HAVE TO WORK ON MY PORTFOLIO, AH, FUCK I ALREADY MISSED A DAY AND I'M GOING TO BE BEHI-" Jisung was spiralling, hands twisting, feet fidgiting around pointlessly, nearly choking as he spit out the words at an alarming rate.

Surging forward without a second thought, Minho grasped both of Jisung's wrists and pulled them over the panicking boy's head. The movement caused the cold, stiff muscles to move in ways they didn't want to. The slightly pain- and certainly unexpected motion- made Jisung stop mid-sentence, shocked. 

Mouth gaping, the younger stared at Minho.

"Awh! YOU LOOK LIKE A MONKEY! Do you want a _ banana _?"

"..... . . . ._ what the fuck? _"

"You look as crazy as you were acting! _ It fits! _ What a cute, little monkey." Minho cooed, giggling to himself, entirely amused at both his own joke and the other's mortified confusion.

Unceremoniously dropping Jisung's arms, Minho hopped over to the sink. Moving the stack of towels to the side, he grabbed two white wash clothes. Turning on the tap so the water would warm up, Minho turned back to Jisung with a fake, exaggeratedly- polite tone, "now that you're done acting up, let's get you cleaned up, shall we? Good boy. Stay there."

Jisung was stupefied- the instant change in environment leaving him completely speechless. Hands lying numbly in his lap, Jisung merely watched as Minho wet one of the towels with soap, lathering it until he was satisfied. The elder was humming again; the melody was enchanting, haunting and unfamiliar. Like a lullaby that had gone wrong.

Back in front of Jisung, he nodded at an arm and Jisung extended it to him automatically. Minho rested the younger’s hand on his hip, allowing for his own hands to be free as he worked.

It was both soothing and unnerving; the gentleness that Minho used as he scrubbed away the filth.

Once both arms were done, the elder delicately worked up Jisung's middle to his shoulders and neck. The wet towel was always followed by a dry one, ensuring that there were no traces of liquid or soap left. With one hand delicately placed on Jisung's jaw to steady the boy's head, the warm towel passed over the bruise- pressure becoming impossibly lighter. Still, Jisung unconsciously pulled away, groaning.

Minho paused, both cleaning and humming, frozen. 

Realizing his actions, Jisung carefully leaned forward, placing his chin back into the elder's outstretched hand. He didn't look up to assure the boy he could continue- but he didn't have to.

As if unpausing a scene, Minho carried on in his previous actions. The tune changed to something more light and somber- wishful.

After a few more minutes, the humming paused again. "Can you stand up? I could put the soap in your hair from here; but I'm going to have to wash it out in the sink..." 

Minho, for the first time, sounded unsure of himself. 

Immediately, Jisung focused on gathering himself, mentally preparing to follow the request.

"Here." Hands found his elbows, guiding him upward and supporting him the few steps to the sink. The change in elevation took Jisung a second to adjust to, but Minho had no issue with patiently waiting for the younger to give a nod of affirmation.

Bent over the sink, the bruise stood out harshly against overly prominent vertebrae. Focusing on the task while supporting Jisung's- now, overly-malleable nature- proved to be a challenge in its own respect.

The boy was like a noodle- floppy and uncaring.

They ended up with one of the Minho's legs pressed into the counter between Jisung's; a hand on the opposite side of the boy's waist to prevent him from falling sideways. They were more close than either would have preferred on a normal day; but, Jisung was freezing and still shirtless- the extra warmth was extremely appreciated. 

Although Minho ended up in a compromising position, he thought nothing of it as his fingers worked through Jisung's hair, slowly combing out pebbles and dirt. He'd chosen to use his own shampoo and conditioner, knowing that the lasting results of luster and silkiness would greatly benefit the younger.

As the soap washed out, Minho massaged the boy's scalp- a small, relaxing treat given recent hardships. Soft sounds were pulled from the boy under him; an odd mix between light snores and whines, Minho chuckled.

"You haven't fallen asleep on me, right?" His hands stopped, the soap completely rinsed, and Jisung truly did let out a whine.

Pulling the boy up by the shoulders, attentive to any soreness, Minho wrapped his head in one of the bigger towels and guided him back to the toilet.

Jisung's head lolled downward, posture completely relaxed. Still amused, but wanting to get the boy clean, Minho tapped his bruised cheek lightly.

"Ji? You okay in there?"

An exaggeratedly drunken nod was the response.

"Jisung." His pitch dropped an octave. Minho had no intention of breaking what little trust Jisung had finally given him. Lifting the boy's head up, he reiterated: "Jisung. Pay attention for a minute."

It came out slurred; but, the boy opened his eyes, disoriented, to meet the Minho's serious gaze, "What?"

"Your pants. I can roll up the other leg and clean from there or I can leave and you can do it. Or I can get Chan; if you trust him, more."

Jisung bit his lip, looking up to the ceiling in thought. After a solid minute of silence, he turned back to Minho and declared his decision in a manner far more conscious: 

"...I trust you."

Shocked, Minho schooled his expression into forced, subtle curiosity. The elder tilted his head, humming questioning tone.

"Just take 'em of... I don't care.. anymore." The bravado quickly faded away as the statement progressed, Jisung losing his confidence as soon as it had come.

"Are you sure, Jisung?" He couldn't help but want to reconfirm. If anything happened, it would be on Minho. Jisung was clearly out of it, so that left him as the sole responsible one.

"Just... Do it. I'm tired." As if his exhaustion was a plausible excuse to override his insecurities, Jisung forced it out there between him and Minho. He knew it was stupid. That he hated people looking at his legs. _ He _ hated looking at his legs. The way they were shaped. The way they _ lacked _ shape. The limbs that should be muscled, defined and strong; but, like the rest of his body- they were scrawny and bony. 

Minho took a deep breath, before dropping to his knees, onto the rug at Jisung's feet. Softly, Minho steadied himself on Jisung's thighs. "Okay.... we'll start with the left leg first, then."

Getting the joggers off didn't prove to be too difficult; however, the way Jisung tensed as soon as his thighs were bared was embarrassingly unmissable. Minho halted; taking his hands away and looking at Jisung with shielded concern. 

"Ji? I can stop at anytime, if you're not okay with it."

"I'll be fine."

The way the boy's hands shook in his lap said otherwise.

Decisively, Minho pulled a towel off the rack behind him and waved his hand at the cat that had been curled up right where Jisung had left him. "Come here, you." Immediately, Midnight obliged, swiftly covering the short distance after stretching his back out. 

Minho wasted no time in scooping the kitten up and depositing him, wrapped in a towel, on Jisung's bare thighs. Neither said anything more; but, Jisung's small smile said everything. As Minho had expected, the boy immediately took to distracting himself with the kitten- who had no shame in happily purring into the towel.

Removing Jisung's pants the rest of the way was simple from that point on. The elder maintained his hum, hoping it would relax all three of them. Cleaning the nasty cuts- which were the deepest on his left leg than anywhere else- went without struggle. Given the proximity of the cuts, Minho settled for antibacterial cream, gauze squares, and a large roll of ace wrap. When he was done, the entire leg looked as if it should belong to a zombie. An idea that he had no issue relaying to the boy.

As he’d said beforehand, Minho left Jisung's left ankle alone. 

He stood and rang the cloth out, refreshing the soap and warmth in it. And turned around, awkwardness emanating from his stance.

Jisung was, surprisingly, far more conscious and aware than Minho expected him to be. Tired eyes looked up at Minho. The boy questioned the change with a small tilt of his head.

"Here." Minho held both of the cloths he’d been using out, looking away in mild embarrassment.

"Why?"

"Your upper legs. And- I-.. uh..." The younger got the picture as the elder gestured wildly towards the towel covering his thighs.

"_ Oh. _ Okay." Jisung _ at last _ obliged, taking the towels gently from Minho.

"I'll, uh, just go? And get your clothes? I'll...knock or something when I come back." With a face burning from pointless stress, the elder turned around and all but rushed out of the room. Before he completely shut the door, Minho stomped back in, directly up to Jisung. 

Scooping the kitten up by the scruff- more harshly than necessary- he left.

True to his word, Minho knocked once on the door before calling: “I’ve got the bags when you’re ready.”

“You can come in” Jisung immediately responded, voice low.

Minho did so, only to find the boy directly in front of him, just out of range of the opening door. The younger had his black bag out, a sight that made Minho’s heart jump happily. He looked far better than when he’d initially stumbled into the cafe. However, not necessarily more awake- Jisung’s eyes were seriously struggling to stay open, even as he finished brushing his teeth. It was surprising, honestly, that Jisung was even able to secure a towel around his waist as well as he had.

Slipping past the boy, Minho placed the backpack on the toilet before picking up the clothes that Jisung had borrowed, shoving them into a plastic bag and throwing it off into a corner to deal with later.

“Do you mind if I get your clothes out?”

Jisung bobbed his head sleepily, uncaring.

The younger finished with his care routine and hopped over to stand directly next to Minho.

“Arms up.” Grimacing, Jisung raised his arms. They only made it about ninety degrees before he let out a sharp exhale, the pain in his back overriding his will to move.

Minho paused before accepting that was as much help he was going to get. “Good enough. Don’t strain your back.” He slid Jisung’s plain white t-shirt over his arms and head, pulling it down with more care than was necessary. The boy was shaking, frozen from being clothless for so long.

Making a snap decision he would- no doubt- regret later, Minho shrugged off his button down and put Jisung in it. Part of him hoped the residual body heat would kickstart the boy’s own thermogenic system.

Jisung stiffened, but quickly relaxed into the warmth.

_ The pants, though... _“think you can put on a new pair of boxers? You don’t have a pair of loose pants so I figu-”

Jisung nodded, faintly blushing as he took the clothing from the elder. His voice was small when he spoke, but to Minho he may have well yelled directly into his face. “Can you… can you turn around? Just for a minute…” Immediately, Minho turned around- going as far as to bring his arms up and cover his eyes. The extraness make Jisung softly giggle, so it was _ worth it. _

A few grunts and muffled cuss words later, it came: “all good.”

Minho turned and nodded.

_ And now, the hard part. _

“Alright. Soo…” Jisung looked like he was internally dead, caving in on himself as the seconds passed. Now that he was clean and changed, it was as if he was completely shutting down for the day.

The elder had intended on laying out a few options for the boy- allowing him to choose what he was most comfortable. But, that all went to hell the second their eyes met. The bit within him that housed the ‘MOTHER HEN INSTINCTS’ flared as Jisung wobbled, his ankle giving out- once again- under what little weight the boy had. 

Instinctively, Minho closed the distance and swung Jisung up into his arms. It was horrifying for a second due to the fact he- unsurprisingly- overestimated how much the boy weighed and nearly threw Jisung into the shower stall. 

The sensation of being temporarily airborne made Jisung freak out, grabbing onto the nearest thing to him. Which happened to be Minho’s poor hair. The cold hands found treasure in his- once perfectly styled, with more care than he’d ever admit- locks, jerking his head harshly forward into Jisung’s chest.

The younger began to hyperventilate for a few seconds before he realized that he was no longer flying _ or falling _.

“Can you let go?” The question had no malice. Merely, a neutral request (maybe laced with a bit of amusement at the other’s extreme reaction).

While Jisung _ did _loosen his grip, he didn’t let go completely. Instead, the younger slid them down to rest, interlocked, on the nape of the elder’s neck. Even more, he refused to meet Minho’s increasingly entertained gaze, settling his head in the crevice between his arm and Minho’s neck. 

At the short, puffs of air flowing down his shirt, Minho chuckled. Carefully, he grabbed both bags the bags he’d brought in and set them in the cabinet under the sink. 

_ I’ll deal with those later. _

Cradling the boy tightly, Minho took up a quick pace down the hall towards the conference room.

As he had intended on informing Jisung of earlier- it was most definitely morning rush. And lovely, _ lovely, _ WooChan were behind the counter functioning as a flawlessly _ wonderful _unit. Any traces of the elder’s tiredness from earlier had faded away as they spun around each other taking, making, and calling out orders.

Minho, catching both of their eyes as he rounded the corner, nodded gratefully at them. _ I’ve got to remember to give them more time off. I owe them after this. _Chan’s expression lit up with worry at the sight of Jisung being curled up in Minho’s arms, but a quick look told him everything he needed to know about the situation. Minho had already informed both of the elder’s about the state the boy was in, giving Woojin a heads up about the condition of Jisung’s ankle.

Avoiding the curious gazes of the numerous customers, Minho slipped into the conference room and kicked the door shut. He’d set the room up briefly, leaving one of the shades up so that the morning light could filter in but not overwhelm the injured boy.

In his head, he had expected to be able to put Jisung to bed and get on with his day. Occasionally checking in, of course. Hopefully Woojin would find the time to check out ankle.

What happened in reality? Jisung unforgivingly clung to Minho’s neck like the monkey he is. Unexpecting the (lack of) action, Minho fell forward as he tried to set the boy down. Nearly losing his shit as his body fell on top of the other’s, Minho posted his arms out, dropping Jisung onto the padding and frantically praying he’d moved fast enough.

Their foreheads collided, but overall they both stayed safe. Unsquashed.

Jisung groaned, pushing his throbbing head deep into Minho’s neck- completely incoherent of anything going on around him.

Minho, on the other hand, stayed in the position a few seconds longer than necessary, willing his heart and breathing to slow down. He rolled onto his side, away from the wal, blocking Jisung in. Not that the boy would’ve gone anywhere with the way he was refusing to loosen his grip even slightly.

Sighing but not surprised, Minho settled down. 

It was more than a small challenge: trying to wriggle the comforter out from under their intertwined bodies. Despite numerous attempts to separate himself, Jisung stubbornly pressing his head further into Minho’s neck, more than slightly crushing the elder’s head under the dead-weight. 

_ Just ten minutes. _ He had a cafe to attend to. Friends to relieve from a shift before they worked _ even more _overtime. A best friend to save before he drowned himself in school work. But most importantly at that time: an injured boy to take care of.

It was like everything else dimmed in comparison: he could apologize to Chan and Woojin. Rely on Felix to come and drag Changbin to bed. 

But, who did _ Jisung _have to depend on?


	21. For You

As if sensing Minho’s thoughts, Jisung whined in his arms and stretched a leg out over Minho’s hips.  _ Great. Now, I’m  _ really  _ trapped.  _ The boy was doing his best to further attach himself to the elder, like he was trying to envelope him and ensure that he would never be left alone.

Minho turned onto his back, bringing the entirety of Jisung with him until the younger was straddling him. The new position took all the stress off of Jisung’s bruised back and legs- all his body weight was shifted onto Minho. With the other’s head now pressed into the pillow next to his own, Minho felt himself smile as soft puffs of air warmed his neck.

The elder reached up- pushing his luck and betting on Jisung staying knocked out- to run his hands through Jisung’s hair. Minho’s hair products had done their magic: his hair had become perfectly silky. Short nails running lightly across Jisung’s scalp led to the boy fully relaxing, at last.

Neither noticed when, a couple of hours later, Woojin entered the room. To say that the sight was endearing, and mildly surprising, was an understatement. Minho typically wasn't one for skinship. So, to see him being entirely swaddled by another- particularly, someone fairly new- was astonishing. 

It wasn't difficult for Woojin to identify which of Jisung's ankles was the one in question. It, unlike the rest of the boy's body, had been left unclean. The damage was nauseating to look at. Thankfully, only the knee down was exposed. If Minho’s panicked, pale-faced description of the situation had been accurate: Jisung’s entire body was littered in similar, horrific injuries.

Looking closer at the ankle, Woojin cringed as he noticed the pale white skin marred with dark, vicious-looking, bruises. There was definitely swelling and internal bleeding. Their main concern would be how Jisung handled it while he was awake. Though, considering his past (lack of?) reactions to pain, it may not be a good indicator of the injury's status. 

It didn’t take him long to clean up the grit and blood. The only part of the task that was even slightly difficult was avoiding waking Minho. The boy was a relatively light sleeper, more due to his unending wariness than actual sleeping habits. But, it seemed that he was in a fairly deep sleep which was odd given that he was being completely crushed by the overgrown squirrel boy. It was almost worth making loud sounds just to see the duo flinch into each other. When his task was completed, Woojin stood and walked back out into the now empty and silent cafe.

"How is it?" Chan sidled up next to him, still exhausted, and wrapped his arms around Woojin's middle.

The elder twisted in the hold to return the gesture, relaxing into the familiar warmth with effortless ease. Leaning his head onto Chan's shoulder, he sighed. 

"It's worse that I thought it was. There may be some major blood vessels that broke.... a lot of swelling and it's hard to tell what caused it. Did you call?"

Chan giggled, his body jiggling in full body amusement. "Yeah, it was very.... well a new experience, to say the least. I never thought we'd have a kid so soon.” Chan laughed openly, recalling his feigned maturity: “‘excuse me ma’am~ but my child’s vomiting with raging, unstoppable diarrhea…. Yes, he will be going to the doctors today... I apologize for not contacting you sooner but please excuse him from school today.’"

Pulling back, Woojin held Chan's face in his hands, openly reveling in the way that the younger's eyes just seemed to  _ sparkle _ any time he was even slightly amused.

"We already have six, what's one more?"

Chan's grin only widened, nearly blinding his lover. "Hmmm. I don't know. Lucky number seven?"

"Lucky; for us  _ and _ him."

"You're right." Chan nodded his head in small motions, rubbing his cheeks on Woojin's work-worn palms. "We should go to bed. The cafe's closed up. Jisung's school's been called. It's time..."

Woojin nodded, moving Chan's head in sync with his motions. "'You're right'. As usual. Let me put ice on Jisung's ankle first; then, we can take Binnie home."

They separated- Chan going to coax an inevitably grumpy Changbin into at least some form of consciousness while Woojin went to the kitchen to conjure up some ice packs to hopefully reduce at least some of the swelling.

In the end, he'd had to wrig some plastic zip bags with ice, salt, and alcohol. With the leftover wrap and towels he'd already gathered, Woojin made short work of patching up Jisung's leg.

Once he was  _ truly _ satisfied with the stability of the ice packs, Woojin left with a tired- but fond- smile. 

Chan was already outside the cafe, all three of their bags slung over one shoulder and a tired Changbin leaning on the other. Woojin locked the door behind him before covering the short distance to help his friend. Wordlessly, he bent down just in front of the tired student.

It didn't take more than a nudge from Chan for the youngest to flop forward, unapologetically dropping his weight onto Woojin's back. Once he was settled, legs hooked together around the eldest’s waist, Changbin mumbled slurred words into the soft skin of Woojin's neck: "thanks Woojinnie~ You're like~ my second favorite~ you know that riiiiightttt?"

Woojin chuckled wryly, starting down the street next to Chan. Changbin was always adorably honest when he was exhausted. All their boys were adorable.

Jisung woke when- as seemed to be his usual reality as of late- the room was completely dark. The last thing he could remember was Minho taking off his striped button down and sliding it over his arms. It'd been so warm. And smelled like the cinnamon he’d found himself longing for. Like a magical potion of everything he didn't know he wanted, it had caused Jisung to black out. And it was  _ scary _ .

To Jisung’s absolute, unparalleled horror, he found himself waking up  _ on top of _ Minho. Jisung stiffened as he realized the position he was being held in: completely spread out over the older, straddling his waist, with an embarrassingly large puddle of drool that was  _ way too  _ close to the crook of Minho's neck for anyone’s comfort. If the elder moved his head at all, he'd be in for a shockingly unpleasant awakening. 

_ I guess, that’d make two of us. _

He wiggled, determined to free himself, but the arms tightening under Jisung’s armpits restricted all possible movements. What made Jisung struggle the most was the discovery that his left leg was being weighed down with something unforgivably cold. Too cold. It was like his entire body was burning up but his left foot was stuck in a snow drift. It prickled, stinging sharply if he moved the appendage at all.

On a whim, Jisung propped himself up on his elbows as best he could. It put a bit of distance between him and Minho; though, it wasn’t enough to stop the other’s exhales from moving his hair back and forth.

"Minho-hyung." The elder unconsciously twitched at the mention of his name, but remained virtually unperturbed otherwise.

Louder, Jisung agitatedly sing-songed: "Minnnhhhoooooo- HyUuuUuUungggg."

This time, Minho groaned; turning away from the sound. Directly. Into. Jisung's. Drool.

Minho jolted, nearly sitting up before recognizing the weight on his chest required considerably more effort to raise. They fell back down in tandem, foreheads colliding with equally heavy "oof"s.

"...Good morning to you, too."

"Is that drool? It better be drool." Minho released his hold on Jisung's waist to paw at his face, disgusted by the sticky, foreign substance.

Jisung giggled, entirely amused by the 'just awoken' nature of Lee Minho. "What else could it be?"

Minho stopped the motions to look at Jisung with a deadly gaze. "Cat piss. You know how disgusting that is to wash out of bedding?"

The younger had the decency to stop giggling, face scrunching in thought at having to clean  _ any  _ bedding of excrement. His bedding never smelled clean- or not like mold, at least- so it was hard to honestly answer Minho's question.

A gentle flick to the forehead brought Jisung out of his thoughts. "I didn't mean it literally."

"Oh." 

Feeling increasingly awkward as they both gained consciousness, Jisung gathered himself before suddenly flinging his body over Minho's, rolling towards the wall in an overtly clumsy motion.

"Woah!" Minho made to grab the younger’s upper body, as if to slow his descent. However, his hands missed, only grazing the sleeves of Jisung's borrowed shirt.

For the second time since waking, Jisung hit his head. This time, it was a lot harder- the harsh wall sound making Minho flinch as it resounded through the room.

Stunned from the impact, Jisung dropped his head on the pillow next to Minho's. His body went practically limp as the younger focused on … well...  _ focusing _ .

Minho's head was blurry, going in and out at an alarming rate with black dots fading and reappearing throughout Jisung's field of vision.

"Jisung?"

The thought of responding made him nauseous- not like he could talk right now, anyway. Just trying to blink away the floating holes was too much work.

"Ji?" A hand slid into his, fingers interlocking, as if they were the key to his lock. "Squeeze my hand."

He tried. Jisung  _ really _ did. He wanted  _ nothing  _ more than the overly concerned expression on Minho's face to go away. Change into something teasing. Or annoyed. Anything but  _ that _ .

His pinky twitched.

"Okay. Good enough. Close your eyes for now? But don't fall asleep. Don't. Fucking. Fall. Asleep. I'll be right back." Jisung internally nodded at the words, finding it easier just to rest his poor eyelids than force them to do a job they were obviously not down for doing currently. Minho detached himself from the bed, clambering out quickly and rushing to the door.

It was only a couple of minutes at max, silence bringing every sound into scarily maddening detail, before Minho returned. He seemed to still be rushing as he sat a tray down on the floor by the futon, kneeling where he had been laying before.

"Jisung? I need you to sit up." More sure of himself, he added, "you're going to have to sit up. I have some medication to help with your head- and everything else. You really need to eat and drink something."

At the thought of doing  _ so many things _ Jisung groaned.  _ I don't wanna. Just let me fucking sleep. My head hurts. 'nd my foot is freezing off. I bet I have frostbite by now. Just cut off my foot… And let me sleep. Did I mention that I just want to fucking sleep? _

"Come on," Minho slid his arms under Jisung's head and shoulder, "up you go." With that- he none-too-gently heaved Jisung up into an upright position. The younger involuntarily heaved, only dry air coming out.  _ When was the last time I ate something? At least I can’t throw anything up. _ His head spun even worse than when he’d initially smashed it on the wall. 

Minho slipped his body behind Jisung, easily picking up the younger and settling him into his lap. Finding it pointless to blink around in the dark, Jisung merely sat with his eyes shut, putting his faith in Minho to guide him.

"Alright. Meds first." The elder reached over to the tray, pulling two pills away with a water bottle. The action caused Jisung to fall to his left, so Minho simply brought his arms up around the boy, encircling him. Careful not to spill, Minho placed the bottle directly onto Jisung's lips, making everything as easy as possible.

"Take a sip then I'll give you the pills."

True to his word, the elder did just that. Jisung nearly choked on the first mouthful; but, managed to get the medication down in the end. Minho patted his back through the gagging, the sensation giving Jisung something to concentrate on that wasn’t his burning throat.

"You need to eat... I'm not going to ask you to eat all of it; but, I've got some chicken soup and I want you to eat at least five spoonfuls." Jisung managed a groan, high and strained, a signal of his wavering disgruntledness. "Five, Jisung. Not the entire thing. It doesn't even have to be all at once. Just. Five."

If he was in better condition, Jisung would've dramatically dropped all his weight onto the unbudging elder, cutely sulking with a whine that showed just how much  _ he didn't want soup. He wanted to sleep. _ But, he had no strength left to object, so Jisung slowly relaxed his pout, allowing the spoon Minho had held up to his lips to enter.

It was warm- not too hot, or cold- and indescribably tasted like a home he’d never had. Small, nearly indistinguishable strips of chicken melted into the broth which was  _ just  _ light enough to slide easily down his throat and still leave behind a pleasant aftertaste.

Jisung hummed, now, an appreciative tone.

"That's what I thought." He could hear the smirk in the elder's voice, undeniably proud of his cooking. This was no canned chicken noodle soup. Reheated, definitely. But not some processed, overly preserved trash. 

Five came too soon. 

At the sound of a spoon being dropped back into a bowl of liquid, Jisung whined. He fidgeted slightly- body still weakened- an act that probably looked more like a full body spasm than a charming plead to be fed more.

Still, Minho understood him.

"See? and you acted like I was trying to poison you." Regardless of the additional sass, Minho continued to feed Jisung until the bowl was completely empty. "Okay. Think you can finish off the water, too?"

His stomach was already uncomfortably full. The chicken soup was worth it-  _ for sure _ \- but  _ water?  _ No. Jisung didn't even bother attempting to shake his pounding ahead, afraid of seeing the food come back up. Instead, he pursed his lips tightly and dropped his head back onto Minho’s shoulder with a soft  _ thud. _

"It's okay. You did good. I'm proud of you." The elder ran a hand through Jisung’s hair, petting him, a surprising amount of adoration in his voice and actions. The words which should've made no sense-  _ all I did was eat? _ \- lit the boy’s body up with warmth. Pride was an emotion rarely directed  _ at _ Jisung. What did he  _ ever _ do to qualify for such a precious emotion?

Minho slid out from behind Jisung the same way he had established their position; carefully lowering Jisung back down to the futon, making sure there were no sudden movements that could further injure or agitate any part of his body. 

The elder took the extra time to shuffle around, pulling the comforter up to Jisung's chin and tucking it around his sides.

"Ji? Can you open your eyes now? I need to make sure you don't need a real doctor. After that you can rest, okay?" The voice was soft, coaxing.

It took all of his willpower and energy for Jisung to peel his eyes open. It was as if sumo wrestlers were stomping through his head as soon as he started the action. But, for the one who had spent an unreasonable amount of care on him, he did it.

"Follow my finger." Minho moved his index finger up and down, side to side. Jisung, though sluggish and strained, determinedly followed along with his eyes. "Good. You can close them again."

Tension that Jisung hadn't felt building released as soon as his eyes shut.

"You may as well sleep. I have things I have to attend to. If anything comes up, I'll let you know." Minho patted the boy's shoulder before standing up, finally properly stretching out his muscles.  _ I haven't slept like that in a while. _

Before he could take even a single step away, Jisung's was waving his hand around blindly. "Wait. Can-... can you take…. my ankle off? It's really cold..." The middle was indistinguishable, jumbled with sleepiness, but at the mention of an ankle- Minho knew exactly what the other was talking about.

Rather than answering, Minho knelt back down- this time at Jisung's feet.

"Ah. Woojin must've wrapped it up. I'll take them off; they’re probably warm by now, anyway. Let me know if it gets too uncomfortable and I'll stop."

Woojin had arranged the bandages and packs strategically, there wasn’t one place in the affected area left uncovered. Thankfully, it all came undone with a single pull of the bow at the top of Jisung's ankle. It only took a couple twirls to have the ice packs free. 

Minho wasn't particularly great at bandaging, but following the reverse of what he'd undone, Jisung's ankle was re-wrapped in no time, sans ice packs, with an overly perfect bow placed directly on the outside of his lower calf.

Jisung thanked him as he stood, to which he had no response.  _ Why should you be thanking me when you’re the one who keeps getting injured? Thank yourself for the fact that you're not dead by now. _

His cafe was closed. For the second time since it'd opened: _His cafe was_ _closed_.

The fact hit Minho hard as he walked out in the mid afternoon to find his beloved space dark and empty. It struck him deeper than he expected: the  **loneliness, disappointment ** in himself, and worst of all- the heavy  **depression** . He'd worked so hard over the years to maintain the standards he'd initially set for himself. Exhausted or not, the cafe was  _ always  _ open. Maybe, it was his search for wandering souls; for there to always be solace for those who couldn't go or didn't have a home. But that's  _ exactly  _ the kind of problem he was tending to right now.

Minho had been told bits and pieces about Jisung from his friends; though, he’d mostly been given obnoxious responses like: "ask him yourself". And he  _ wanted _ to. Truly. But, how can you expect someone to open up to you if you don't return the favor?  **Guilt, sorrow, insecurity** ; they all ate away at Lee Minho. It was all made worse with every second that he didn't know the answer to the question that'd been nagging at him the most lately:

_ How long was he supposed to be alone? _

  
  


Another note from Chan was left next to Jisung for when he awoke. Seeing the familiar script, Jisung wanted to groan. It was like each message from Chan that the elder just  _ couldn't _ seem to pass verbally always sent him spiraling. The elder never said the most emotionally wrecking things to him in person.

With held breath, Jisung read the note between winces; head pounding from the effort.

** _Dear Sungie,_ **

** _I hope this note finds you better than when we last saw you. Woojin wrapped up your foot. Still! Be careful on it!! He wasn't sure if you’re going to need a real doctor or not, so maybe give it a day and if the swelling doesn't go down, let us know. I'm sure everyone will be asking you about it, anyway. I talked to Changbin and convinced him to fork over one of his extra sets of monitoring headphones, so feel free to use them until you find yours!_ **

** _Yours,_ **

** _Channie-hyungie._ **

** _P.S. MAKE SURE YOU EAT ENOUGH! NO MORE SKIPPING MEALS! AND BE CAREFUL WHEN YOU SHOWER!! <3_ **

The letter left Jisung with mixed emotions. There were so many weird, affectionate nuances about it: "yours", “Channie-hyungie”, "<3", "Sungie". His heart felt warm and happy, while his brain was wretchedly twisting. He didn't deserve the help of the elder's. Or Felix. Or Hyunjin. 

It was a world too new, too much, too soon for his comfort. 

"Ah, I figured you'd be getting up soon."

Minho walked in, carrying a tray which he sat in front of his large, black chair. Jisung couldn't exactly see what was on it. It seemed as if there were two sets of...  _ something _ .

"Do you need help getting up?"  _ No.  _ He didn't want any more of their help. He'd already been conceited enough in accepting the aid they’d offered him.

Jisung started to shake his head; but, quickly remembered his cerebral predicament as a sharp stab of pain nearly blinded him. 

"No, I'm good."

Sarcasm bled from Minho's following comment: " _ Sure. _ Okay.  _ Well. _ I've got food here once you crawl over."

And crawl is exactly what Jisung did. One limb at a time. One searing, nearly blinding sensation at a time. Eventually, he made it from the futon to the legs of the chair next to the head of the table. A whole four feet away. 

Arms crossed and completely unamused, the elder was glaring at him. 

Jisung sat at the base of the chair- mermaid style so as to not put pressure on his left leg- as he contemplated exactly how the fuck he was supposed to get up int-

Two arms slid underneath Jisung's armpits and yanked him upwards. The motion was seemingly effortless- something that internally ticked Jisung off. He landed softly into the plush chair, directly onto the mint pillow.

"Feet up."

The tone was so authoritative, Jisung automatically responded- sticking his feet into the air like a child on an amusement park ride. The chair slid towards the table.

Minho joined him, gracefully settling into his chair after pulling the circular pillow onto his lap.

The tray turned out to be a reminiscent sight: two slices of cheesecake (one topped with strawberry, the other: caramel) and two teas brewing in two unique-looking mugs. Of course, one was familiar. The striped mug and the warning of ‘you’ll never be fired if you never give him the wrong mug’ were still fresh in his memory.

The unfamiliar mug had a thick, long, curved handle to support the more-tall-than-round mug. Black polka dots that littered the entirety of the outer surface were so distended that it almost looked as if the mug had big warts against the shining white ceramic. The black and white circusy abominations somehow created a stunning monotone aesthetic. 

Despite the uncomfortable feeling of his brain rattling around in his head, Jisung was laughing. 

An eyebrow raised, Minho looked at the boy as if he'd gone crazy. 

"What's so funny?"

"Tha-  _ that mug!  _ It's s- so… HIDEOUS!?  _ Holy shit _ ..."

Minho immediately took offense, cradling the china in his arms, petting it as if to apologize for the other’s rude behavior.

"How can you say that?!"

"It looks like it's diseased!"

"It's got character  _ and  _ personality!"

"It's got a bacterial infection if it has anything!!"

"That's going to be you if you don't shut up and drink the damn tea!"

"I can't very well do that if you're holding it hostage!"

"Apologize!"

"For  _ wHAT?? _ "

"FOR HURTING ITS FEELINGS!"

_ "I AM S.O. SORRY" _

Minho sat the mug down in front of Jisung, a large, genuine smile on his face. Even his tone was dripping with sunshine as he replied: "Good. I'm glad. Now let's eat."

Jisung got whiplash. 

Two seconds ago they were yelling at each other. Immediately after conceding, the environment had become one of a calming tea break.  _ What the fuck? _

Gaping at the mug underneath his nose, Jisung realized the similarity between this drink and the last one (that he had been served the Minho, specifically).  _ Another matcha frapa... something. _

Embracing the elder's dramatic change, Jisung downed half the mug's contents. The way that the cold drink soothed his dry throat was pleasing and helped to mask the pounding in his head from their riled up states.

"There's more painkillers on the tray, if you want them."

Immediately his attention was drawn to the two white pills placed on a napkin next to the caramel cake. 

And then they were gone- along with the rest of his drink.

"Hey-  _ slow down _ . You're going to get sick if you keep that up."

Minho was right. Of course. The last time that Jisung had eaten was.... days ago? He'd eaten since then…  _ right? _

Thus, Jisung leaned back in his chair, away from the beautiful temptation of the cheesecake. The drizzled syrup of it had his mouth watering; but... Minho was right. He needed to slow down.

Folding his hands in his lap, Jisung looked down. "I, uh-...... thank you."

There was a pause before Minho leaned forward, a pleased smile on his face, arms crossed on the table. 

"You're welcome.”


	22. Double Knot

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one goes into family issues and death, so if you're uncomfortable with that: skip it.
> 
> °˖✧◝(⁰▿⁰)◜✧˖°

After finishing their snack, Minho slouched and closed his eyes- enjoying the peaceful atmosphere. Without having to worry about the cafe, it felt like he could do anything: take a walk, bake a cake, paint his house. AnYtHiNg.

"So, uh, do you have any plans tonight?"

Without moving more than his mouth, Minho indulged the poor attempt at conversation: "I haven't decided yet." 

He let the silence settle; entirely too amused at the fact that the younger was  _ definitely  _ squirming in his seat. Cracking an eye open, Minho confirmed his suspicions.

"Do  _ you _ have anything you want to do tonight?"

"I want... I'd like to do study. I already missed so much school..."

Minho nodded. "Okay. Anything else?"

Jisung's face contorted. "Mm... I'd like to help you around the cafe.. If you don't mind…” By the end, his sentence faded into silence- insecurity overcoming confidence.

Immediately, Minho snapped his fingers in Jisung's direction, pleased with himself for coming up with such a genius plan so fast.

"Okay! I need to make the cakes and pastries for the next couple days, so you can help me with those. And, while they're baking and chilling, you can do your school work. Sound okay?"

Jisung's face lit up.  _ Finally _ , he was going to be useful around the cafe; maybe he'd even be able to take over baking in the future if he paid attention close enough. Pies and cakes seemed  _ much easier _ to understand than the forest of buttons and settings of the coffee machines.

News flash: it wasn't.

Within thirty minutes of starting, Minho had strictly placed Jisung on measuring and mixing duty. He was forbidden from moving off of the stool the elder had dragged into the kitchen; and, after mistaking baking powder for baking soda: Jisung was reduced to  _ only _ measuring.

Despite how frustrated Jisung had expected Minho to get after he ruined an entire batch of cookies, there were no other repercussions aside from his reduced duties.

It was mind bending: watching multiple batters of various colors be created at once.  _ I have no idea how he keeps track of all this. _ Minho didn’t even have recipes out to reference- it was all coming straight from his head. 

Some form of green tea cake was at the far end of the counter while multiple loaves of bread had already been placed to rise in the fridge. Jisung was scooping out a cookie mix with a utensil Minho mockingly titled "God's hand", while Minho was finishing up transferring cheesecakes into their cooking bowls.

Time flew far faster than either of them realized. 

Minho clapped excitedly once the last cookie sheet was baking; happy to be done with the labor and even happier to be surrounded by the smells which had originally inspired him to opening up a cafe.

"We're done! The soonest cake will be done in an hour, so you can go do your homework."

Jisung was watching him, staring blankly, still reeling from the scene. Never before had he seen the elder let loose. Obviously, baking was a skill that came naturally to Minho- he hadn't even needed measuring cups while creating the batters. He never got confused, even while working on multiple creations at the same time. It reminded Jisung of when he was at the lab, papers spread everywhere and multiple programs open; yet, in his mind, Jisung always knew his goal and exactly how to get there.  It was the one time he felt he truly had control of his life.

"What? Don't want to do your homework?"

Startled out of his daydream, Jisung shook his head. "No- no, it's not that. It's just... watching you bake reminds me a lot of myself." The words were out before he could stop them and Minho's intrigued nod only spurred him to explain further. "When I work on music... I'm a lot like you. Know what I'm doing, how to do it the best way, things like that."

Minho didn't respond; but, he didn't lose his thoughtful expression, either. Internally, he was blushing from the flattery and compliments; however, it wasn’t the time to act on  _ those  _ feelings. Instead, the elder quickly danced around, swiping up various dirty dishes before depositing them into the industrial sink. When he finished, he found Jisung with the same blank expression. It broke when they made eye contact.

"It took me a while to figure out what I was doing. And when I did... I just ran with it. Ignored what anyone said and just did what I wanted."  _ ‘It could've been worse, but I made it’ _ flowed through the air, unsaid.

"Hey, look Ma, I made it~" Jisung sang. “If it’s a dream, don't wake me, don't wake me~”

Minho snorted, a wide smile on his face as he came over and helped Jisung up by the elbow. Together, they made it back to the conference room. Once the younger was deposited back in his white chair, Minho offered to retrieve his backpack from the bathroom.

That left Jisung alone and reflecting.

_ How... did I get here? _ It was scary- how easy it'd become to operate around the cafe boys. Chan and Woojin were always so warm and accepting; Felix was like a gift he never knew he wanted to receive; and Changbin... he barely had the opportunity to interact with the boy, but even  _ he _ was willing to help Jisung. Most shocking of all: Minho....  _ why? _ What made the elder drop everything and dote on him? He was the owner of an entire establishment, stable and successful, not much older than Jisung, and above all: scarily charitable. In just a few days, Jisung had become so comfortable that the cafe felt like a second home.  _ Or,  _ maybe even a first.

Minho reentered, with a refilled tray and Jisung's new backpack slung over his shoulder. Setting both the items down in front of Jisung, he gasped dramatically.

Wide-eyed, the younger looked up. "What?"

"I'll be right back." Minho hastily wiped his hands on his pants, speeding out of the room.

Shrugging, Jisung unzipped the bag.  _ Wonder what that was about _ . Digging through the new clothing articles, Jisung realized something significant. He had a new bag. New clothes. New school supplies. But no books. No notes. and None of the resources that he needed to catch up (or maintain his lead) with. Harshly dropping his head to his bag, Jisung groaned until he was out of air.  _ Fuck. Of course. How did I _ -

A blunt pressure forced Jisung's head closer to the table. It soon left, but not before Jisung had to the chance to hear the heavenly sound of densely packed papers being gently placed down. Directly next to his backpack was a familiar stack of math, history, and English books and spirals. Even his composition binder was intact- and that thing had seen more abuse than anything he had ever owned. Including his previous pair of tattered shoes. It was a little bent at the edges and scuffed on the cover. None of that mattered to the student. 

Jisung's filled with tears. The liquid fell, unbidden, as he stared at the papers.

"Woah, woah, woah." Minho plopped onto the edge of his seat, curious as to what had caused such a dramatic reaction in the younger. "If you really don't want to stud-"

"No!" Jisung all but jumped out of his skin with the rejection, hastily wiping away the tears with the bottom of his sleeve. "Just- thank you."

"I haven't done anything to be thanked for- but continue." Minho crossed his legs as he leaned back, looking like a proper CEO. 

And continue, Jisung did- the rush of emotions of excessive emotions still racing through him.

"That's not even true. You don't  _ really  _ think that, do you? Where I'd be without... all this... is way too different. I can't even imagine it..."

In an attempt to ignore his increasing fluster, Jisung busied himself with arranging his books. His head was still full of unwanted pressure; but, school was school. He needed that scholarship. And he wasn't about to let some shitty pre-calculus class stop him from getting it.

Minho's voice interrupted the younger’s forced introspection, tone more serious than it had been any time beforehand: "it it means so much to you, then make sure you benefit from it. Use us, while you can. Take advantage of all the opportunities you have here and utilize them going forward. Don't let it all go to waste." The elder paused for a moment, letting the words sink in. "You've got a place here, if you want it. No one can take that from you, but yourself."

For the second time in five minutes, Jisung wanted to cry. He didn't even cry when he was getting cornered, or when his ankle felt like it snapped. However, listening to Minho speak  _ so _ sincerely about his future broke all walls that could've been between the two. Jisung’s lips trembled with the effort it took not to outright sob.

Under the serious and unwavering attention, the younger felt the need to respond. A wobbly, whined "mMm" was all that escaped his lips.

Minho placed his arm out on the table, hand near Jisung's, but not quite touching. "I mean it."

Nodding so much that he nearly bashed his head, Jisung took a minute to breathe before he finally spoke: "I know. It means... a lot. Thank you. Really."

To stop Jisung from  _ actually _ hitting his head, Minho slid his arm further forward. Hand on the younger's head, he easily forced him upright, away from the surface.

"I'd rather you  _ show _ you're thankful than hearing you saying it. Starting with not giving yourself  _ another _ concussion. Deal?"

He dropped his hand so that Jisung could shake it in agreement. Which the younger eventually  _ did _ , but not after staring at the appendage like it was probably covered in invisible acid. "...deal."

A sharp yowl tore through the cafe. 

Jisung, jumped, his hand tightly gripping Minho's in fright.

"Of course... he's back. Doesn't ever leave, does he?" This time, it was Minho's turn to groan and drop his head onto the table.

"....what do you mean?"

"Give me a minute and you'll see."

At that, Minho dropped Jisung's hand, stood up, and stomped out of the room, muttering furiously under his breath.

As promised, the elder returned a minute later. This time, with a large, fluffy cat in his arms. Patches of the white fur was covered in dried mud, the substance leaving smears on Minho's previously clean shirt.

"He wanted in and I have to check on the cake, so look after him for me for a bit. He's a big baby. I promise." Minho placed the cat onto the table before turning around and heading back out. Over his shoulder he called, "and make sure you eat some of those, Chan'll yell at me even more if he hears you missed another meal."

At that, the cat climbed on top of Jisung's piles and plopped itself down. The white ball of fur was snoring before Jisung even looked back from Minho.

Not knowing what to do with the unfamiliar creature, Jisung sputtered, "I... uh-  _ hello? _ " Jisung sat, hands twisting in his lap. 

_ What am I supposed to do... _ His stomach turned with the unfamiliar situation. _ What if it doesn't like being touched? I need to do my homework, though... _ Frown deepening, Jisung sighed.  _ Why are there so many cats in this place, anyway? Minho-hyung might as well advertise it as a cat cafe. They’d probably make more money. _ Watching the cat doze, he stiffly leaned back, entirely conflicted.

Shortly after Jisung’s mind started spinning with ridiculous scenarios to free his books- everything from picking the sleeping cat up to accidentally pouring his tea on it- another cat brushed its way into the room. This one was lean and gray with piercing orange eyes. It had no issues leaping onto the table- a feat Jisung couldn't even imagine doing as a  _ human _ \- and sauntering over to the other feline. The newcomer completely ignored Jisung; it’s focus honed in on the other feline. Eyes wide, the student could do nothing more than watch as the gray cat settled: pressed against the other, tail gently batting against the white cat’s back.

Reiterating a cautious greeting, Jisung held a hand out to the newest arrival before sheepishly dropping it in embarrassment. "It's... nice to meet you? But I really need to do my homework... if you don't mind?" As he spoke, Jisung started pulling his spirals out of the pile under the dozing duo, hoping the disturbance would encourage the animals to move away. It didn't.

At least for the fluffier feline. What  _ did _ encourage the heavy sleeper to move was the gray cat gathering itself and pouncing. It landed directly onto the other, limbs precisely caging the fluffy body under its weight. 

Jisung halted in his attempts to move his supplies, the papers trapped.  _ Great. Now, I  _ really  _ can’t do anything.  _ He’d had only managed to rescue two of his spirals- and they weren’t even for the same subject.

The grey cat suddenly chirped, a series of sounds that was neither happy or annoyed. But, it was just as loud as the yowling had been earlier- especially now that it was in close proximity.

Hissing directly at Jisung’s history book, the white cat got up.  _ What if they start fighting?? Minho called him a ‘big baby’ but he seems more like an ‘angry grandpa’?!  _ Effortlessly carrying the other on it's back, they moved to the place- still on the table- in front of Minho's chair. Flopping back down, the snowball instantaneously fell back to sleep.

Relieved at the lack of aggression, Jisung shook his head and set to studying. Every so often, he munched away mindlessly at the bowl of trail mix Minho had left him. His  fugly mug had been refilled with a warmer liquid; though, the taste still closely resembled the icy matcha concoction the elder usually gave him. 

Jisung lost track of time as he worked through next week's pre-calc homework. He was on the week's fourth assignment- thoroughly annoyed with one of the  _ stupid word problems- _ when Minho reentered.

The elder, now with a messy apron on, flopped into his chair with a dramatic sigh.

"Don't you two have anything better to do?" The cats were curled around each other, tails intertwined. Neither acknowledged the sassy question.  _ Maybe they don’t like humans.  _ He’d heard of cats like that. Jisung couldn’t imagine that stray cats ever experience positive sides of human nature, anyway. He’d lived a life similar to being a stray, and it certainly wasn’t anything pleasant.

Not willing to sit in silence, Minho continued his questions, this time directed at the only being in the room that would willingly respond: "how's the homework?" Though the boy tried to keep his blatant distaste out of his tone, he completely failed.

Without dropping a beat in his calculations, Jisung answered in a sickeningly sweet voice: "it's absolutely wonderful. Nothing else I'd rather be doing in the world. The best. Most ~amazing~ thing ever."

"If you hate it so much, why bother with it?"

Figuring he needed a break, Jisung let the question float in the air until he finished the problem. Dropping his pen after circling the answer, Jisung leaned back in his chair. 

Minho had moved both the cats to his lap, one on each side of his body. He was lazily dragging his fingers through their coats, reveling in the purrs which blended together and subtly echoed through the room. Though his motions were delicate and careful, his attention was most certainly focused on Jisung, expectantly waiting for an answer to his inquiry.

Meeting the other human's gaze, slightly embarrassed, but unwilling to shy away from what he truly wanted for his future, Jisung folded his hands over his books. Internally, he was squirming under the unwavering attention, but externally Jisung was calm and collected. Aside from the way he was tapping his heel- a motion that Minho definitely picked up on.

"I have to do my homework. Because I have to get out of this place."

Minho had already heard from Chan about the boy's goals- since he was there when Changbin had been asked to sacrifice a pair of his headphones- but Minho wanted to hear the explanation, first-hand.

"Oh? What for? It's a beautiful… 'place', isn't it?"

Jisung dropped his gaze, snorting in exasperation. "Maybe for you." The words dripped with sour hatred. 

There was something that had led Jisung to where he was now, and Minho couldn't stop himself- like a dog with a bone- from wanting to discover what it was.  _ How _ Jisung had come to be who he was.  _ What _ had influenced him.  _ Why _ he was living how he was.

Very few people could go through what the boy had and still want to pursue such lofty goals. Refuse to roll over and take it. Minho wanted to  _ know _ . 

"You're right. I have it really well. But. I also worked for it."

"You? You're like my age? No one in this neighborhood knows what it means to 'work.'" Jisung shook his head, eyes glazing over with memories Minho couldn't even begin to guess the contents of. 

The elder hummed a note in question, head tilting in thought.

Unprompted, Jisung continued, "all the people I go to school with... they don't care. They go to school late. They throw food at each other and curse at the teachers. They talk more about parties more than their homework. Their parents pick them up from school and cheer them on at games and concerts..." As Jisung spoke, the words ran together more and more and his voice wavered more and more. The initial annoyance quickly faded into misery as the younger was- at last- honest. 

"They get to work together on projects and talk to each other in class... participate in sports and all that other shit... the teachers always like them more just because they're loud and obnoxious. And since this competition thing started, it's like that's all anyone can focus on when they  _ know  _ when only one person could win it... they all have everything they want anyway.” The words became highly articulate, depicting just  _ how long _ they’d been mulling over in Jisung’s mind: “what could they gain from it? An extra house? I heard one guy say he was just going to make the house a garage for his yacht. It's crazy, isn't? A fucking yacht..." Jisung laughed to himself.

Minho's expressionless persona slowly cracked the more the boy complained. What he picked up on most strongly was the extremely heavy emphasis Jisung put between himself and ‘them’. 

Some part of Minho expected each of the comments that had arisen; the words covered everything vital to adolescence from housing to parenting to food. As much as each of the issues pained him, it was important to know what was on the younger’s mind. _How did it become like this?_ _That_ was something he didn't know.

"It's like-" Jisung's voice broke. His face was flushed, pink with the effort of suppressing more tears. "No one recognizes what they have.”  _ Until it’s too late.  _ “I hate it." He sniffed. "I'm so lucky to have met all of you...I don't even know where I'd be at if..." Jisung attempted to gather his thoughts, wiping at his eyes with the end of his sleeve. Nearly choking, Jisung forced his realization out, horrified: "I'd be dead."

Any misery Minho had felt before immediate lit on fire; hands clenched together tightly in his lap. Voice hard, he growled out: "don't say that."  _ Life is too precious to even  _ begin _ to joke about it like that. _

Humorlessly, Jisung huffed to himself, shaking his head slowly.

"It's tr-"

"I said: 'don't say it'!" The strain in Minho's tone surprised them both. The cats simultaneously whined in his lap, both pitches matching the elder’s. "Life isn't something to joke about."

Startled, Jisung looked up at the elder who was bristling.

"I wasn't joking."

Minho wanted to throw up. To stand up, flip the table over, and use it as a bat to beat some sense into the other boy. 

Instead, he took a long, controlled breath in through his nose, ran his tongue over his teeth, and met Jisung's gaze with the most seriousness he'd ever displayed.

It was  _ his _ turn for honesty.

"My parents died during my freshman year of high school."

"I-" Minho held his hand up. If he was going to tell this story- he didn't want to be interrupted; it was hard enough without having to stop and start. "It was premeditated murder. They were hunted. And they were killed. I was alone. I had a fortune because of the work they put in during their lives, but I was a kid. I had no other family. Everyone I knew tip-toed around me- waiting for 'the kid with dead parents to crack. Go crazy. Probably kill someone. Maybe himself.'" Minho exhaled heavily, remembering the exact features of the asshole who'd said that.

If Jisung had been straining to hold back tears before- he was now all but  _ bawling  _ into his hands, not even bothering to wipe away the excessive liquids. The cats both stirred at the unrestrained crying, but neither moved from Minho's lap.

"I dropped out of school. I got tired of the looks and side comments. Wandered around, trying to figure out to do with myself. And one day... I met Chan. And Woojin. They weren't much older than me, but they had their shit together. I didn't… at all." As if soothing himself, Minho started petting the cats which were growing increasingly agitated with the room’s rising emotions. "After a while, I could go out in public. The whispers stopped. I could eat and sleep properly... they convinced me to workout. And I got better. It took… a long time. But it got better." He sighed, resting his head back on the chair, finally tearing his gaze from Jisung. "I was able to open this cafe and finally support myself doing what  _ I _ wanted. Not what other expected me to do. I made my own choices. And now I'm here. My life went to shit in a single week… now, I'm here."

After a minute of silence, Minho reached out and nudged Jisung's thigh with his toe. The simple contact brought both of them out of their thoughts. Jisung, still wiping away tears and snot, looked at him with sad, red eyes.

His voice taking on a softer, less mechanical tone- Minho finished his monologue: "that's why I said: 'take advantage of all the opportunities you have here'. You're on your yellow brick road. But, I can't force you to walk it. I'll help you as much as I can... you have to be willing to accept it."

Jisung, visibly shaking, sputtered out nonsensical syllables before finally settling on nodding violently. He was reeling from the new-found knowledge.

"Why..." It was blubbery, but Minho caught the word.

Far more comfortable now that "Talk About Yourself" time was over, the elder lazed back into the chair, legs spread out. With a smirk and raised eyebrow that definitely did not suit the melancholic situation, he mocked Jisung's tone: "Why~  _ what? _ Why now? Why you?  _ Us? _ Why.... what?"

The younger didn't even bother attempting a reply until he fully collect himself. "Why me? Why anyone? After what happened... I don't know if I'd even want to deal with people."  _ What if the killer came after you, since you're still in the public eye? _

Minho nodded, finally understanding. "You're like I was.  _ Lost _ ." Jisung opened his mouth to refute, but quickly shut it at the challenging look on the elder's face. "I would be a shut in if Chan and Woojin hadn't felt me. Afraid to go out in public. Unable to socialize. Scared of every creak in my house. But they took me in, helped me with everything. Sacrificed their time and food and beds to help me. It's what we're meant to do. Help each other. If you saw someone injured, you wouldn't just leave them alone, right? Spit at them and say they did something to deserve it?"

Jisung nodded, instantly agreeing.

"Sometimes we can't see the injuries that hurt the worst. But, that's what words are for. And now that I know some of yours, we can work on them." A second later, Minho remembered his position and rushedly added, "if you want."

That statement confused Jisung.  _ How does he know anything about me? All I did was whine about school. He doesn't really...  _ know _ .. about me. _ .

It was easy to see Jisung's thoughts. The confusion contorted his expression. The uncomfortability at the sudden openness and analysis of his own words had him crossing both his arms  _ and _ legs, suddenly unwilling to communicate.

"It's not a bad thing. Even if you think it is." Less somber, he continued, "if you want, we can take care of those things. You already agreed to work for me, so that'll be your repayment- if you're concerned about  _ that _ ." And Jisung was. "I don't know if you noticed, but Innie goes to your school. He doesn't live too far from here, so he can go with you to and from school. He's not exactly... a parental figure. But it's better than no one? We can see what lunch period he has, too. No doubt, once Chan puts two and two together he'll be sending lunches for both of you." Jisung stared at the table, imaging everything that Minho was describing.

"We'll make sure you've got time for homework... there's always people around here if you need help with anything. Seungmin's the smartest, but I'm sure we could work it out if he's busy.." The elder was talking out loud to himself, at this point, trying to work out the details rolling through his mind.

Shrill beeping in the distance caused both boys to startle.

Looking at each other in shock, they both yelled, "THE CAKES!"

"Didn't you take them out earlier!?"

"I got distracted!"

"Holy shit! Go get them!"

Three overcooked cakes, two burned cookie platters, and one dejected Jisung later: Minho was doing damage control. 

It wasn't the first time he'd forgotten about things he was baking. And if he was being honest, he was almost glad for the occurrence. It opened an outlet for them to focus on something other than themselves.  And maybe seeing Jisung hurriedly limp in, only to freak out over something so insignificant sparked an unreasonable amount of joy within Minho. Thankfully, he'd had the glorious foresight to store extra batters in the fridge and with Jisung's overly eager help- they had a second set of delicacies baking in no time.

The younger was perched on the stool, still frowning at the ruined cakes Minho had shamelessly dumped into the trash.

"Don't worry about it. It's not a big deal."

"It  _ is _ though."

They sat for a few moments longer as both males tried to find the words to express their thoughts.

"Can I-"

"You kno-"

Jisung stared downwards, eyes wide. 

Shaking his head at their mutual, impeccable timing, Minho sighed.

"You first."

"No, really. It's fine. It was dumb anyway. You go ahe-"

Rolling his eyes, Minho repeated himself with a tone of finality: "I said: you first." 

The younger shrunk into himself, afraid of the repercussions his thoughts might cause.

Minho was having none of it. They just went through a good ole' Honesty Session and already, the other boy had regressed into lying. Obviously, if he had found the courage to voice the idea  _ at all _ , it was important. And Minho wanted to know.

Twisting his hands, Jisung spoke at the table, eyes tracing the twisting lines in the stainless steel, "can I take the leftovers? The burned ones?"

That was  _ definitely _ not what Minho had been expecting. Interested, he kept his voice light, "hm? Sure. I don't have a problem with it." Following the statement, he went to the drawer by the sink that held gallon sized plastic bags. Sliding a couple into Jisung's field of vision, Minho leaned over the table, head propped on his hand.

"Why?"

As if he'd been dreading having to explain, Jisung's face contorted.

"If you don't want to tell me, it's fine."

"No!" Jisung nearly jumped to his feet, hands gripping the bags tighter than necessary as he looked at the elder in shock. The burst of energy quickly died down to a muffled, embarrassed shyness."I- uh, don't want them to go to waste. We worked hard on the cakes and stuff, and they're not… unusable."

If he had a tail, it would have been wagging. Minho tilted his head, thoughts running wild.

"What are you going to do with the scraps?"

Jisung dropped eye contact as he fiddled with the bag zippers. The answer came out in a mumble that Minho couldn't catch.

"Hmm? What was that?"

"I said: 'I was going to take the crumbs to the park and spread them out. I'm sure the birds will like them, or maybe the stray cats. I don't know.... at least then it won't go to waste in some landfill.."

Satisfied and impressed at the selflessness of the comment, Minho snatched the bags back from the boy. Jisung made a startled sound, but calmed down once he realized the elder was merely going to fill the bags for him. A large ladle made it easy to scoop the cake and cookie remains into two bags which were then sat in front of the boy with a side of ‘Proud Parent Eyes’.

"There you go!" The words were far too energetic for how late at night it was.

Jisung brought the bags to the edge of the table nearest him, hugging them to his chest.

"Thank you." The appreciative smile on the younger’s face was far too blinding.

A buzz filled the room.

Pulling his phone out of his back pocket, the elder rolled his eyes at the message- exasperated. O _ f course. You've already adopted him, haven't you? _ Minho slid it back into his pocket and put his hands on his hips.

"Our Dearest Father-nim would like me to remind you to brush your teeth before you go to bed. 'Which should have been an hour ago'; though, he has 'no doubt' that I've 'kept you awake.'"

Jisung laughed into the bags, thoroughly entertained with Chan's accurate predictions.

"Well... he's not wrong?"

Minho, now thoroughly offended, placed a hand over his heart and leaned into Jisung's personal space.

"hUH? You think I'VE kept YOU awake? This is a symbiotic relationship, my friend."

Features flattening into an accusatory expression, Jisung argued back: "that doesn't mean it can't be parasitic."

Annoyed that the younger saw himself as lesser-  _ and now even a parasite?! _ \- Minho frowned. "If you weren't already injured, I'd hit you right now." Loosening his stance and walking around to stand beside the boy, the elder huffed, "come on, my little parasite~ Channie-hyung says you need to brush your teeth and go to bed."

With a raised eyebrow, Jisung looked at him. "And you're actually going to listen to him? What about the cakes?"

Sliding an arm around the younger, Minho pulled him up and off of the stool. Maybe, he'd known Jisung wouldn't be able to stand with the sudden motion. And maybe,  _ just maybe _ , Minho had made him stand on his bad foot just so the younger would be forced to lean into his side. 

He'd deny any and all future accusations on the subject.

Jisung yelped in pain as he did just what Minho had predicted  hoped for . Falling into the elder, Jisung scrambled to find purchase on any surface that would halt his descent.

They ended up with Jisung balanced on the foot furthest from Minho, arms wrapped tightly around the elder's waist. He hands were tightly wound into the other's shirt- completely unwilling to straighten even though he'd only flailed for a couple of seconds.

Minho, though entertained with the overly dramatic reaction, didn't want to risk dealing with an angry Father Chan.

Through sheer muscle, he pulled the tense Jisung upright, unabashedly allowing the younger to lean into his side.

"Up you go, no need to make Daddy Channie angry~" Leaving the crumb bags behind, Minho began walking them to the kitchen. In a less mocking tone, he added, "I set a timer on my phone, this time. So I'll pull them out when they're ready, later.  _ YOU _ , on the other hand, need to sleep for school tomorrow. Do you want to go? Chan can call you in- again- if you don't want to."

Jisung shook his head fervently, "I want to go. I  _ need _ to."

He didn't think it was a good idea, particularly with how slow they were walking, but who was Minho to deny Jisung of something he wanted?

At last, they made it to the bathroom. Jisung draped himself over the sink as Minho knelt and grabbed his bag from underneath. The elder went as far to squirt the toothpaste onto the brush.

Minho stood in the doorway as Jisung washed up for the night. The boy was far too rough with his skin and hair for it to be healthy, but that was an issue for another time.

Unwilling to awkwardly stand in silence and watch like a creep, Minho ran over what he'd been thinking about since their talk:

"So, tomorrow, what time do you want to wake up?" Jisung held up his fingers in response, too occupied with his face wash to respond verbally. "Okay. So we'll"- he left that part ambiguous since he wasn't sure who'd be manning the cafe at that point- "make sure you're up by then. You can do whatever until Jeongin gets here and you two can go to school together. I don't know if he has practice after; but, he might be able to come back with you, too. You'll have to ask him. When you get back: you can eat, work on homework, maybe start picking up how the cafe works if you've got time... whatever." 

The important part for Minho, was the emphasis and agreement on the part where Jisung would come back. He didn't want to sound demanding, but being with Jisung for the time he had, it was obvious that the boy was extremely unlikely to ask for anything- until he exploded in a mess of emotions. Hopefully the younger boy would feel the necessity of keeping his unspoken promises; or, be able to negotiate with his own terms. 

_ All in good time. _

It'd be important going forward, for both of them, to avoid the explosions and enforce constant communication. 


	23. Alchemistry

Second day soreness is always the worst. In exchange for the pressure and blurriness that had been plaguing his head- Jisung's limbs felt like they'd been filled with led.

The sky was still dark when the alarm on his watch woke him, subsequently followed by a much too-awake Woojin slipping through the doorway. The eldest, upon seeing the state of Jisung's consciousness, pulled a nearby chair over and sat next to the mess of blankets.

Jisung had enough awareness to pull himself into a sitting position- but refused to lose the warmth that had been absorbed into the bedding. He groaned with each little movement, trying desperately to get a handle on reality. A cat that had been dozing by his feet screeched and bolted out of the room, a dark streak on the side of Jisung's vision.

Chuckling at the cute cocoon the younger had formed, Woojin felt an overwhelming amount of affection. He reached out and ran a hand through the younger's sleep fluffed hair, pushing it back out of his face.

"Morning, Ji~. Sleep well?"

Jisung hummed in affirmation, closing his eyes to enjoy the sensation of his hair being sifted through.

"Innie said he'll be here in about half an hour... Do you want breakfast? I heard the cookies that you two made turned out really well.  _ This time _ ."

Giggling at the recent memory, Jisung smiled as he buried his face into the blankets. After a few seconds, he threw the weight off of him in one go, freeing his body. Just doing that took an unexpected amount of energy. 

Holding his arms up to the elder- like he'd seen Minho do a couple days ago- Jisung pouted. His face was extra round in the mornings, so he may as well use it to his advantage.

"Hyung~~~" Jisung whined, flailing his arms; careful not to go outside the bounds of his soreness.

"Big babies. The lot of you." Woojin caught both of Jisung's hands midair. He swung them back and forth in small motions, pure adoration pouring out of his expression. "Do you want to have breakfast?" 

For the sake of Woojin helping him up, Jisung nodded sleepily and swayed, following the rhythm of their conjoined arms.

The eldest huffed, still smiling, and stood; carefully pulling the injured boy up with him. Jisung continued swaying once he was on his feet- more out of weakness than playfulness. Just as his legs buckled, Woojing used the momentum to swing the younger up into his arms.

Jisung squeaked, clinging tightly to Woojin's neck once he was stabilized.

"Shh, I've got you. Let's go to breakfast and I'll wrap your foot again before you leave." The soft rumble of Woojin’s voice help calm Jisung. He wasn’t a fan of heights and being carried by the not-so-short male was certainly enough to cause panic.

Even though it was less than twenty steps to the booth where Woojin delicately deposited him, Jisung nearly fell asleep again. Lulled by the gentle strawberry scent that surrounded Woojin, Jisung was as content as he could be given the frightening height.

It wasn't until a heavy arm was slung around his shoulder and a head nuzzled into his own, that Jisung realized he wasn't alone (or with Woojin).

"Good morning!!" The voice was too energetic-  _ and too close to his ear _ \- for the sun still being down. 

Jisung jumped at the loudness, eardrums ringing.

"Lix, let him live. He just woke up." Chan chastised the boy from somewhere across the table.

The nuzzling and warm embrace continued; Felix repeated his greeting again, this time in a dramatic whisper. Jisung groaned in response, turning himself to burying his head into Felix's neck. They sat that way, the noises of utensils hitting ceramic plates being the only disturbances to Jisung's light dozing.

He was awoken  _ again, _ less than five minutes later, to the sound of a heavy bowl being placed in front of him.

"Sungie~ wake up~" the voice, still rough from the early morning hours, was at his ear. Body warmth emanated from the person as they leaned over the booth. The hot breath tickled his hair, making Jisung pressed his body closer into his twin. "If you don't~ I'm going to lick your ear~ 3....  _ 2.. _ ..-"

"I'm up!" The student shot up: back straight, hands on his knees. With eyes as large as physically possible, he turned his head like an owl to stare at Minho. Who,  _ by the way, _ was enjoying the reaction  _ far _ too much. The elder was laughing whole-heartedly- doubled over and clutching his stomach. He nearly stumbled, before remembering the mugs in his arms.

"Ah, here you go." Starting from the people closest to the wall, Minho placed the mugs- which all matched in their own peculiar monochromatic manner- in front of each person. Somehow, each one seemed to fit the personality of the person they were for. Jisung did his best to quickly memorize the ceramics to the owner, since it was knowledge that would probably come in handy in the future (especially, given that his job? seemed to be on the line with Minho’s):

Chan's was all black, a single, white horizontal line breaking up the design. Two delicate handles were on either side of the rather stout creation. It looked about the size of those ‘short’ cups Felix had pointed out to Jisung before.

In front of Woojin sat something that resembled a bowl more than a drinking glass; it lacked and handles and had a wide opening on top. Thin, vertical, black lines were spaced evenly across both the exterior and interior.

On the other side of Felix, just out of reach of an oblivious curled up Changbin: a basic black and white checkered-patterned mug, about the height of Jisung's palm, but... square shaped?  _ There isn't a single one of these that is normal. Not. A. Single. One. _

Felix's was a standard, round shape, but the color work was extraordinarily complex- something resembling tye dye. It looked like marble.

The attention that Jisung paid the others was returned ten-fold when Minho set  _ his  _ abomination down. While the other’s all looked like they could be in a museum display… Jisung’s looked like an elementary schooler’s first art project. 

He was attached to it, nonetheless. 

The contents were back to being the frozen version of matcha- perfect to soothe his throat after a long sleep. Jisung hummed, bringing the mug happily to his lips in anticipated appreciation. After a few seconds, he found everyone- save for Minho, who was digging into one of the six bowls of oatmeal- staring. Even  _ Changbin  _ had woken up to join the ‘forget how to blink’ party, that-  _ apparently-  _ Jisung had missed his invitation to.

The fugly mug was placed back onto the table in an awkwardly slow descent as Jisung realized- they weren't staring at him. It was  _ the mug. _ Circling his arms around it, Jisung pulled the ceramic towards him- hiding it from sight. It might be hideous as all hell, but it was  _ his _ .

"What? What do you want? What's up? Why aren't you guys eating? Something wrong?" The questions rolled out at top speed due to his apprehension. 

"Woah, even  _ I _ can't talk that fast. Chill, dude. Drink your shit." Without moving more than his mouth, Changbin was chastising him from the corner. The low, sleep-induced growl brought out more light out of Felix than Jisung would've ever thought was possible.

"Awh! Binnie you're awake~ good morning!" It was like his twin spoke with smiley emojis between each of his words.

Apparently the dark ball was only willing to force himself into consciousness for a few, select moments. Despite his small frame, the oatmeal and whatever was in the checkered mug was gone in seconds. With a yawn, Changbin stretched out and contracted back, cuddling into the boy on his right. Felix immediately responded by wrapping an arm around the boy, giggling openly at the unfiltered morning affection. 

"Oh? It looks like Felix is starting a harem."

Hyunjin walked through the door, armed with the smartass comment that effortlessly rolled off his tongue. Jisung stiffened. Memories of two nights ago had him shifting away from the boy. The subtle change wasn't missed by the remaining table members.

Felix, pulling both of the boys next to him as close as possible, rubbed his cheeks adoringly into each of their crowns. "Mine's better than yours~" He sang happily before sticking his tongue out in the newcomer's general direction, completely undisturbed by the hostile manner Hyunjin was projecting. 

Behind the tallest, Jeongin trailed in with his hand connected to a slightly taller, brunette boy. All three of them were in school uniforms, but only Jeongin wore the one for Jisung's school. The other two belonged to the rich, private academy on the opposite side of town.  _ Of course. I'm sure he fits right in. _

Chan, breaking the tension, not-so-gently reminded the twins to finish their food before it got cold.

The first to finish after Changbin, Minho rolled his shoulders and stood, gathering the empty dishes. He stopped to whisper something to Hyunjin as he passed; but, it was inaudible for those in the booth.

Skipping over to the table, stopping next to Jisung, Jeongin was glowing. His hand was still connected to the other student, who didn't exactly look happy at being jerked around. Startled, Jisung quickly gathered himself and attempted his best ‘forced, but polite’ smile at the unknown person.

"Jisung-hyung~ this is Seungmin-hyung. He's like a week younger than you and also likes music! He never really admits it- but, he sings really well. He wants-"

Seungmin slipped his hand out of Jeongin's, only to wrap it over the boy's mouth with a sourly kind expression.

"You can call me Seungmin, or whatever. I don't really care. But, now that you know my life story, what's yours?"  _ That was quick. _

"Han Jisung. 14th of September, 2000. Grew up here."

Without missing a beat, Felix shook Jisung in excitement. His head lolled back and forth with the energetic motions. "My twin! We're like, less than twenty four hours apart!!"

Standing just behind Jeongin, Seungmin dropped his hand to the youngest's shoulders, using him as a leaning post and a shield. "How are your studies? Like, what do you want to do after high school? You’re a senior, right?"

Jisung scratched his head awkwardly, overly aware that Changbin- who had accomplished what he was attempting to- was only one person away. "I'm... studying music production. I haven't decided if I want to be a lyricist or what, yet. But... I'm working on my portfolio."

Nodding to himself, Seungmin walked back to Hyunjin, who was bothering Minho at the counter. The whiny tones they were being exchanged floated through the cafe, over the conversation that the eldest couple had previously started with Felix.

“Hyung~ I want to hear your music at some point. Whenever it’s finished. If you don’t mind. I know Changbin-hyung really only lets Felix and Chan here his works before their finished. But, whenever!” Jeongin was flustered, cheeks pink with the effort it took him to vocalize his inner wishes. 

Before Jisung could even reply, the youngest slid into Minho's empty spot, unashamedly stuffing his face with a couple of spoonfuls from Woojin's bowl. He was quickly caught and chastised, but Jisung was quick to offer his own bowl. Jeongin shook his head, holding his hands up in denial. “You should eat. We need to leave soon.”

"The tea is enough for me, I'm not really used to eating breakfast, so you can have it if you want.”

Chan frowned and was about to interrupt and deny the offer in Jeongin’s place, but the youngest was on his toes:

"Hyung~ you need to eat too. How about we split it?" 

Jisung happily nodded, thoroughly relieved that he wasn't going to be forced to eat the  _ entire  _ bowl; it was probably three times larger than something he would’ve served himself.

"I'd like that." Jisung reached across Felix and snatched Changbin's untouched silverware, which he handed to the youngest with a grateful smile.

They dug into the bowl together, Jeongin attentively making sure that Jisung took the first- _and last-_ mouthfuls.

In that fashion, they finished the bowl and sat back- enjoying the soft rumble of the conversation around them. Minho came by, exchanging the empty bowls for compartmentalized plasticware. Each of the (awake) students cheered at the sight, leaving Jisung perplexed.

Woojin, from his place in the middle, took charge of dealing out the boxes, which were all labeled with the according owner's names. "American-style chicken and fries for Binnie~; ddeokbokki and vegetables for Felix~; salad and bulgogi for Innie~; and Jisung- we weren't sure what you'd like, so we gave you a bit of everyone else's food."

Without even thinking, Jisung waved his hands at the overly-caring behavior. "It's fine. I'll eat anything, hyung. Really... I appreciate it. A lot."  _ How long has it been since I had lunch at school?  _ Normally, he’d just go to the lab to get an early start on his classwork… but the lab had a strict ‘no food’ policy. And there was no way he was going to be able to sneak an  _ entire container _ past Mrs. Kang.

Chan spoke from the corner, frown still in place. Attacking the idea from a different angle, the blonde struggled to keep his voice light. "Is there anything you  _ can't _ eat, though? Like: allergies or intolerances?" His concern towards the issue was soothed through the grounding grip he had on Woojin's upper thigh. 

Jisung fidgeted, mind running through various foods. When Felix tightened his hold on the boy’s shoulder, the answer finally spilled out; relieving the others at the table: "I can't really eat spicy food." Jisung looked like he wanted to combust at the admission.  _ Why was it so hard to admit things he didn’t like? _

"Really?"  _ Is there something wrong? _ Felix shrieked, making Changbin lean away and cover his head with his arms. The redhead didn’t loosen his grip; merely bringing Jisung with him as he leaned with Changbin. "Me, too!" His twin wiggled happily, shaking his two captives with him. 

Chan nodded, echoing: “me, too.”

_ Oh. _

For some reason, Jisung felt relieved.  _ Really _ relieved. Almost light-headed. He wasn't alone. Even if he was surrounded by people- he barely knew them, really. But. He wasn’t alone  anymore .

"Hyung, you might want to go shower and change... we have to leave in less than thirty minutes.." At Jeongin's prodding, Jisung scooted to the edge- not missing the way Felix reluctantly let him go, trailing his arm down his twin's back rather than simply withdrawing it. 

_ How am I going to do this? _ His ankle- much like the rest of his body- was sore and still extremely bruised. As if it was responding to his thoughts, his ankle pushed uncomfortably against the bandages- pulsing. 

One day of rest. That’s all he had, had. But it's not like he could just swallow his pride and  _ hop _ over to the bathroom.  _ In front of all these people? Hell no. _

So, Jisung bit his lip and forced his face to maintain a neutral expression.  _ It doesn't hurt. Can't feel a thing. What would hurt? Nothing wrong here. Nothing to see _ .

Behind him, Chan freaked out at the sight of Jisung standing. The sound of fright was quickly muffled by Woojin quickly placing a hand over the other male's mouth.  _ If he wants to do this- let him. He needs to learn to ask for help _ . He couldn't say it out loud with Jisung still in such close proximity, but his eyes said enough. Chan slumped into Woojin's side- clutching his arm, almost desperately, like a lifeline. He never took his eyes off the injured student and continued to stare worriedly at the corner once Jisung was out of sight. 

Jisung moved slowly, praying that the ones ignorant to his ankle would merely mistake it as morning grogginess. Internally, his mantra held strong. However, as soon as he passed the kitchen doors, Jisung's apathy quickly shattered. Silently cursing his luck, Jisung attempted to reason his actions out: he couldn’t ask for help. He wouldn't have it at school. Thus, he had to get used to the pain as soon as possible.

Shutting the bathroom door behind him, Jisung all but collapsed against the counter top. Just from the short distance, he was covered in a layer of sweat and his insides were ignited with smoldering pain. His back felt like there was someone constantly standing on it; and, the throbbing in his foot was now stabbing shocks that ran all the way up to his hip.  _ Today… is going to fucking suck. _

In fear of Chan's 'ten minute check-in' fixation, Jisung forced himself to turn on the shower. Huffing from the effort, he fell onto the toilet- which was thankfully closed- after the water began running loud enough to be heard outside.

_ I have to get my shit togethe _ r.

A knock at the door.

_ It hasn't even been ten minutes! _ Jisung whined internally, his heart picking up at the idea of having to explain himself to any of the others.  _ The pain. His stubbornness. His appetite. _ All of the topics made his body prickle with anxiety. 

_ Jisung  _ didn't even know why he was so fixated on pushing himself when common sense obviously said he shouldn't even be attempting to move his ankle.  _ So how was he supposed to explain himself to someone else? _

Before he could open his mouth to ask who was interrupting his ...not.. quite.. occurring... shower, a familiar voice called: 

"It's me."

".... come in?" 

The permission came out instantaneously- and  _ unintentionally- _ due to Jisung's confusion.  _ What does he want? _

Minho cracked open the door, shielding his eyes as he slipped inside.

The sight struck a chord with Jisung, making his heart skip. Still, he muffled a laugh at the surprising consideration the elder had.

"I'm not going to ask again after this: are you sure you want to do this today?"

He was offering a way out. Jisung could say no and be done. It would be easy. But, it would also be giving up. He could continue living this cushy life and forget about everything that troubled him outside of the cafe. The concept was glorious, thrilling, rare.... and unwanted.

Jisung nodded. It was shaky, filled with second thoughts. And it was unseen.

"You know, I can't see you- right?" Minho's voice was filled with mirth; despite the troubled crease between his eyebrows. "You're going to actually have to talk."

"Ah, yeah.” His traitor of a voice cracked. “ _ Yeah. _ I'm... fine. With going to school, that is." Jisung’s head was still muddy from the struggle to get to the bathroom. And the water, which he'd accidentally set to be too hot, was causing steam that made everything more foggy. Externally and otherwise.

Minho dropped his hand, but kept his eyes shut. An eyebrow was raised at the lack of confidence in Jisung's response; though, as promised- he didn't question it any further. 

Reaching into his back pocket, Minho pulled out a small bag. It was filled with pills. 

"Take these with you. You already saw what Chan made for you guys. We also put a water bottle in your backpack. Take two every couple of hours and make sure you actually eat lunch, or you’ll get sick."

Irrationally afraid that they were trying to poison him, Jisung couldn't help but ask: "what are they?"

Minho huffed, setting the bag onto the counter. Jisung was pretty sure the elder rolled his eyes, even though they were still closed. "They're painkillers. Stronger than your average ones- but they won't fuck you up at school.  _ Unless, _ you 'forget' to eat."

He was nodding again. "Oh... okay. And... you can open your eyes. I still have clothes on."

One eye at a time, as if he didn't believe the younger, Minho cracked his eyes open. He quickly scanned over Jisung's position before his gaze settled on the untouched- and still wrapped- ankle.

Jisung, for once, acted outside of his comfort zone. On pure impulse, he closed his eyes and exhaled the words, as if he wanted to get rid of them as soon as possible:"would you help me?"

Minho hummed a question mark. 

_ As if it’s not obvious. You ass.  _ He knew full well that Minho was milking the situation; but, if Jisung wanted to get to school on time he needed the help. So, he indulged the elder:

"With the bandage on my ankle? It'll take me forever to get off.." Standing hurt. Bending down hurt. Moving hurt.  _ Just this once, _ Jisung was willing to throw any, and all, pride he possessed away.

Before the younger had even finished, Minho was sitting by his feet. Lifting the foot gently by the heel onto his lap, the elder wordlessly set to work on unwrapping the joint. 

It was almost comical- the attention that Minho put into making sure that he didn't jostle Jisung's leg. Though he’d been mocking him earlier, it didn’t show through his actions.

Jisung, feeling awkward about the dotting behavior, focused his attention onto the visible steam particles floating around. Occasionally, he raised a flannel-covered paw up to bat particularly large ones around. That seemed to amuse Minho; despite the elder never looking up.

Three short knocks startled both the boys. Minho jumped, accidentally pulling the wrap too tight. Jisung hissed under his breath.

"Sungie? You alright?"

Voice raspy from the pain, Jisung called back, "dandy."

"I grabbed your backpack, since it's got your school uniforms in it. I'll hang it on the doorknob~"

"Thanks, hyung. I'll be out soon."

Chan's not-so-light footsteps retreated.

While Jisung was distracted, Minho had finished unwrapping his ankle. Turning it slightly in his hands- which were pleasantly cold in the too-warm environment- the elder let out a low whistle.

"You better hurry up and shower. Woojin's definitely going to have to wrap this. Again." At that, Minho leaned over and pulled Jisung's black bag out of the sink cabinet. Plopping it onto the younger's lap, he stood.

Without another comment, the elder left.

A small "thank you" reached his ears just as the door clicked shut.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I take way too much joy in Jisung's "fugly mug".
> 
> °˖✧◝(⁰▿⁰)◜✧˖°


	24. Scene Stealer(s)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a little dry (IMHO) and definitely longer than the rest, but stick with me, yeah? (:?
> 
> °˖✧◝(⁰▿⁰)◜✧˖°

A few minutes later, Jisung was contently clean for the first time in days. His foot was throbbing from the water that managed to stray onto his cuts despite the constant effort he put into holding his leg out of the spray’s range. The small jabs of pain didn’t deter Jisung from doing a small happy dance.

Though he had his own, Jisung used Chan's minty vanilla hair supplies. Though he would never openly admit to the idea; Jisung hoped it would serve as a reminder of the comfort the cafe- and boy- brought to him as he suffered through what inevitably was going to be a shitty day.

He found the bag Chan had left and was dressed- hair styled and teeth brushed- in no time.

Hiding his limp became much harder than it had been. With his foot unwrapped and even more swollen due to the warm shower, Jisung gave up quickly. 

Quickly deciding, before he could bother spiraling down the path of indecision, Jisung called out: "Minho-hyung?" It wasn't overly loud, in case there were customers, but the sound carried to the front of the cafe. The bathroom wasn't  _ that  _ far from the counter- maybe six or seven large steps.

Much to his immense dissatisfaction, Hyunjin came into view. The boy- who wore his uniform like a model- merely pursed his lips in mild annoyance at the sight of Jisung leaning heavily into the wall.

"Hyung's busy." 

Without any further explanation, the boy pulled Jisung's arm over his shoulder- which was extremely awkward given their height difference- and guided  dragged him into the cafe.

Everyone's attention- to Jisung's dismay- turned to the pair with expressions of worry and shock. Particularly, when Hyunjin all but dumped Jisung into the nearest available chair before returning to his original spot at the counter.

"Hyunjin!!"

_ "Really?!" _

"Sungie, are you okay?"

Voices melded together from all around the cafe; but it was Woojin who approached Jisung first. 

"Can I see your foot?" The student nodded, flushed from the overload of attention.

With impeccable timing, Chan brought over one of the cafe's medical kits. Woojin accepted it gratefully before sitting in the chair next to Jisung; carefully settling the boy's rainbowy ankle on his mid-thigh. "It looks better than yesterday, but you still shouldn't use it too much. Ice, elevate, compress; all that good stuff. Take some anti-inflammatories, if you need to." 

Chan noisily dragged a chair up, making a show of wrapping his arms around Jisung and cuddling into the younger's neck. "Our poor Jisungie~! How dare Hyunjin treat you that way. You're one of our precious boy's now~" With excessive, teary sounds, Chan cried: "if you won't stand up for yourself, I will!  _ I'll  _ save our child from this abuse!"

Thankfully, Woojin worked extraordinarily fast and by the end of Chan's monologue his foot was released. Leaning into the elder's embrace, Jisung put on a theatrical voice with an expression of pure disgust: "who's to say I can't stand up for myself?"

Not even bothering to turn around, Hyunjin deadpanned: "I don't know.  _ Maybe  _ the way you were leaning on a wall calling for Minho-hyung?"

In the background, there was stifled laughter.

The atmosphere grew tense as Jisung was unable to think of a retort worthy of  _ The  _ Hwang Hyunjin.

"Aren't you late for school?" Minho walked through the kitchen doors, rolling his eyes as he stacked new cup towers on the back countertop.

"No~" Hyunjin instantly dropped the sass and turned on the aegyo.  _ Two-faced asshole.  _ He skipped around the counter, latching onto Minho's back. "Stop trying to get rid of meeee~"

Turning around to check the money in the register, Minho effortlessly dragged around the limp Hyunjin. Huffing, the owner spoke in the most juxtaposing, light-hearted but deadly serious voice:

"Kim Seungmin. Take him away."

Automatically, the addressed stood up from the booth and slung his backpack over his shoulder. Seungmin ran his hand adoringly through Jeongin's hair and patted the youngest’s cheek before gleefully skipping away.

Jisung laughed at the youngest's frozen, horrified, posture.  _ Doesn’t really like being touched, does he? _

It took surprisingly little effort for Seungmin to peel Hyunjin off of Minho and coerce him out of the cafe. They left; hands linked and swinging.

A tap on the shoulder had Jisung straightening.

"Jisung-hyung~ we need to leave~"

He groaned. Chan's arms squeezed him tighter, allowing Jisung to savor the warmth for a second longer before dropping away. Jisung wanted to whine at the loss.

The elder held up his backpack- making it easier for Jisung to slide his arms through the straps. Once it was settled, Woojin grabbed his hands and pulled them both up, making sure Jisung was completely steadied before letting go. Both elders looked apprehensive; but, neither said a word as they stepped away to let the two students leave.

From behind the counter, Minho caught Jisung’s eye with a short wave of his hand. Doing his best to walk straight- trying not to think about the slow cadence- Jisung went up to him. A short cup of water and a pill was slid in front of him.  _ Why does this feel so inappropriate? Like some back-alley deal? _ If anyone had seen enough shady transactions in their lifetime- it was Jisung.

"You didn't take any of the ones I gave you earlier, did you?"

Wide-eyed, Jisung shook his head.

Busying himself with cleaning the counter, Minho nodded to himself.

"Take those and leave- you're going to be late."

Jisung scarfed down the painkillers, without question, and turned back to Jeongin with a stiff smile on his face.

"Let's go?"

It was the first time that Jisung had ever had someone to walk with. Sure, he'd gone to the corner store with his mom  _ plenty _ of times- but, that was in no way the same situation as this.

They were at the door, putting their shoes on, when a frantic voice rushed over.

"WAIT~ BINNIE-HYUNG HAS SOMETHING TO SAY~"

Both the students were startled; however, neither hesitated in standing to hear the boy out.

Felix herding the sleepy elder over by the shoulders. The shorter’s body was flailing all over- but he was definitely awake. The pair stopped a step away from Jisung.

Changbin extended his arm across the short distance, holding a small black bag out to Jisung.

Confused, the younger took it. With a crook of his head, Jisung looked between Changbin and Felix for an explanation. When Changbin failed to say anything, Felix huffed and gave the black haired boy a knowing glare.

Looking out the window, Changbin spoke at last, "they're spearBEEs. They should work for whatever you're doing. Just return them to me whenever. I've got a few pairs, anyway." Felix look satisfied with the explanation.

With a sharp gasp, Felix snapped his fingers. Bending down to Jisung's height, he held an expectant hand out.

Jisung hummed a questioning noise, placing his free hand in his twin's.

A cold, rectangular device was placed in his open palm.

Felix's face was serious, locking eyes with Jisung as he spoke. "Use this if you run into any trouble."  _ Not like I can run, but thanks? _ "I'll be with Binnie-hyung all day, so just look for his ID and text or call that number, okay?" He wasn't given a chance to refute (or explain that he had no idea how to even begin working the piece of technology) as Felix stood up and walked back to the booth. Changbin trailed behind, almost like a puppy following its owner.

As the two students left the cafe, calls of good luck and well-being followed them out the door.

Jisung made it to the first corner before collapsing against the nearest light pole. He was sweating and panting- a complete wreck. And, of course, the youngest had to be with him to witness ever little cringe-worthy movement.

Seconds after the pole incident, Jisung tripped over his own feet and nearly fell into a trash can. Jeongin caught him.

"Woah!" Slipping his arm under the elder's backpack and pulling on of Jisung’s over his (annoyingly taller) shoulders, they remained upright and free of trash. "Hyung, if you're having problems- just tell me. Okay?" His words didn't get a reaction, so Jeongin hurriedly tacked on: "it'll be harder on both of us if you collapse, so rely on me."

In that fashion, they made it the rest of the way. Occasionally, the pair had to stop for Jisung to catch his breath; but together, they got to school on time.

Had a petty teacher at the entrance gate not have complained about the pair “displaying too much public affection for school grounds”, they would’ve made it on time to first period, too. With a short explanation by Jeongin about the state of Jisung’s foot, the teacher nodded, disinterested, and escorted them directly to the nurses office.

_ I wonder if she thinks I’m faking, or something. _ He sighed.  _ I wish I were good enough of an actor to fake an ugly ass bruise, wheezing, and nearly fainting- all at the same time. _

Once Jisung was sat on one of the beds, Jeongin was dismissed. The teacher left in search of the nurse after writing a late pass for the uninjured student.

At the thought of being left alone- well, not  _ totally  _ alone. There  _ was  _ the weird guy blankly staring at the ceiling two beds over- Jisung panicked. He caught Jeongin's sleeve at the last moment, mouth opening and closing with unspoken words.

The younger turned around, squeezing Jisung's hand momentarily before remembering their surroundings.

"It'll be okay. I'll see you at lunch, right? If anything happens you can text Bin-hyung. I have my phone on me, too, but I'm not sure what Lix-hyung has me saved under. It'll be okay.  _ You're  _ okay." It took three repetitions for Jisung to start believing the word "okay". 

_ It's not like they can send me home, anyway. It's only bruised. _

Still unable to make his voice work, Jisung nodded, more relieved than he had been since they reached the school grounds. The youngest may not have had the overwhelming aura of calmness in comparison to the other cafe boy's, but he was so sure that everything would be alright- it was incredibly reassuring. 

Even if Jisung didn’t believe it in his core, he wanted to. For Jeongin’s sake. 

(Nearly) alone in the sterile room, Jisung couldn't help but fidget. The scabs on his leg caught uncomfortably on his pants and his arm still twinged with odd movements; but, overall, he could tell the painkillers were kicking in.

"Get your ass into trouble lookin' for that rat?" Never before had Jisung heard a voice that immediately made him nauseous- there’s a first for everything, apparently. 

Not that he particularly  _ wanted  _ to talk to someone who thought  _ that _ was a conversation starter, Jisung figured  _ not _ answering a person with that kind of attitude would cause him more trouble that it was worth. "Ah, no. I tripped while walking last night." Not a lie, but also not the entire truth.  _ It's none of this guy's business, anyway. _

For the sake of being polite, Jisung asked, "why're you in here?"

"Don't wanna go to class." He said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Was up all night setting up traps for that little bastard- nearly caught ‘im, too. Fucker got away before the latch fell. I don't wanna sit through some stupid fucking biology bullshit." The more he talked, the less Jisung wanted to hear. If he could make a blatant statement of putting his headphones over his ears and  _ not get beat up _ , he would.

Jisung nodded, externally agreeing.  _ Traps... So.. he's just like those other guys? _ It was no surprise, really. The guy didn't exactly scream 'well put-together, studious citizen’. His uniform was scuffed in multiple places and ragged at the seams- much like Jisung's old ones had been.

Before he could truly think, Jisung blurted, " do you really think you'll catch the cat?"

The guy smirked, throwing a look of pure cockiness in Jisung's direction. "Of fuckin' course. I've got some dumbass partners and we've got shit  _ all  _ over the city. If we don't get the little bitch, we'll at least catch some dinner." The ugly, liquidy snorts that followed had Jisung cringing away, praying the nurse would show up as soon as possible.

The explanation went on and on, including in gruesome detail the jerry-rigged "ingenious" contraptions- all of which sounded like the horrifyingly similar one that had been destroyed a couple of nights ago. Jisung did his best to let the information go in one ear and out the other, for the sake of not becoming sick. He wish he didn't understand the ideology of people like that. But, Jisung did. And it made him nauseous.

_ Mr. Lee. _

He'd seen the cat that everyone was hunting. Petted it. Talked to it. Had it wind figure eights around his legs.  _ He'd _ been closer than any of these assholes. And yet, Jisung had let the opportunity slip through his fingers. 

The only thing that made the black furred animal any different than any stray he’d encountered was the condemning collar around its neck. Though he’d thought it before, Jisung couldn’t help but wonder:  _ who would put their pet through this? Why can’t they just go pick up someone like a normal person? _

Suddenly turned to Jisung, the repulsive delinquent sneered: "did you know? There's rumors about some guy gettin’ in the way of the competition. ‘The Wrecker’. Ruining people's traps and breaking their equipment. Like he thinks he’s some sort of vigilante, or somethin’.  _ You  _ wouldn't happen to know who would do somethin’ like that, would ya?"

Jisung's heart skipped.  _ I'm fucked. _ He had at least one hundred pounds on Jisung; hell, one of his thighs was practically twice the size of Jisung's  _ head _ .  _ How did they manage to stretch the story  _ that  _ far? Already?! _

In hindsight, had he known such a small event was going to put him on a chopping block-  _ almost above the cat!?! _ \- Jisung would’ve just taken Midnight and Sunshine and ran for the hills. Ankle and back injuries, be damned.

"Can't imagine who would do something like that. Seems kinda like cheating, huh?" His voice shook with the effort to maintain false bravado.

"Huh. Funny." The distance between them closed and Jisung cringed as cigarette-tinged breath blew into his face. "'Cuz you  _ really  _ fit that description. Of the 'Wrecker'.” Air quotes were made right under Jisung’s nose. His nose burned from the acrid smells. “‘Can't imagine' that  _ you're  _ that crazy son of a-?"

The door opened.

"Oh? Mr. Kwang. You're looking much more lively. I think you can go back to class, now. Biology with Ms. Ki, was it? I'll make sure to notify her you will be arriving shortly. You may leave." The nurse gestured at the open door with a pointed, steely gaze.

Once they were alone, the adult pulled a rolling chair over in front of Jisung. A clipboard in his hand, he ran his eyes over the injured student. "Name?"

Shaken from the new information, Jisung took a deep breath before answering the nurse’s questions. "Han Jisung"

"Grade?"

"12th."

"Problem?"

"My ankle’s bruised and one of the teachers at the gate told me I had to come here."

After jotting down a couple more notes, the clipboard was tossed onto the bed next to Jisung.

"Well, Mr. Han, you may call me Mr. Kim. I'm the head nurse at the school, if you didn't know." Jisung nodded politely, acknowledging the statement. "Have you done anything for your ankle?"

"It's wrapped up and I haven't really used it since it got injured..." (Totally the truth. Not like he’d walked to school just minutes ago.)

However, Mr. Kim kept a straight face; merely looking at the wrap on the student’s leg. "How long has it been since you injured it?"

The visit went on and on… question after question. In the end, Jisung was sent to second period with crutches and an order to see a doctor before the next school day.

The crutches made the entire day awful. 

Jisung lacked the coordination to maneuver around people, so he was either cussed out with every other step or five minutes late to class. Just to avoid the conflict, he took the tardies with an awkward, apologetic smile.

Upon entry,  _ all _ of Jisung’s teachers gave him a disappointed frown and waved him to sit down. Of course, that meant class had to be interrupted- so  _ all _ of his classmates had the opportunity to openly stared at him and his fucked up ankle. 

Jisung wanted to shrivel up and crawl under a rock by lunch.

All of his classes accepted his late work, much to Jisung's relief; even precalc, which he'd hopped to during one of the passing periods and furiously apologized for his absences.

Lunch time... was an issue. Jisung had to eat. There were too many repercussions if he didn't.

He spent an excessive amount of time fumbling around in his locker, trying to decide where to eat. The back corner of the library seemed reasonable. Or maybe, a stairwell in the science wing?

It was then that Jisung realized it wasn't  _ him  _ shaking- it was Felix's phone in his back pocket.

Jisung had no idea how to work the device, or what press; but, as soon as Jisung pulled the phone out, the screen lit with a banner that read:

** _From: In and out~<3!!!_ **

** _Hyung! Come eat w/ me in the cafeteria! I'll meet you by the gym doors._ **

_ Thanks for the choice. _ As miffed as he was at the younger for telling him what to do, Jisung was happy that the weight of making a decision was gone.

By the time Jisung made it to the meeting point, Jeongin was bouncing agitatedly. When he spotted the elder and his  _ god damn, loud as fuck, shitty crutches, _ Jeongin ran over. Relief was evident in his features as he yelled, "Hyung~~! You came!"

Flustered from the contagious excitement, and simultaneously tired from concentrating on his supports, Jisung grumbled: "of course, I did."

"Jeez, they gave you crutches? Does it help, at least? What else did they say?" The questions came out like rapid fire.

"Uh..." Jisung paused in his hopping, letting the younger close the rest of the distance. "They’re okay. I'm supposed to go to a doctor by tomorrow. Somehow."

Jeongin paused, pursing his lips in thought, before resuming his cheerful antics. "I'm sure we can work something out! Don't worry. But, for now, let's eat!"

The pair managed to find a table towards the rim of the room. Laying into their boxes, small talk was exchanged in an effort to learn more about each other. Topics from favorite seasons (they both like winter) to colors (red for Jisung and pink for Jeongin- "which is practically red! So red is supreme!") to sleeping positions (Jeongin said being on his stomach was the most comfortable but Jisung strongly disagreed saying that side sleeping was  _ definitely _ the best) were covered in an effort to fill the silence. Had it not been for the scurrying of people around them, the boys would've missed the bell.

Thankfully, Jeongin had taken the time to show Jisung how to work the basics of Felix's phone: "just type in the code- 0811- and click the app that says 'messaging'. It's probably green? And to start a new conversation, you hit the plus and type the person's name and whatever you want to-" The phone vibrated in the younger's hands as a banner popped up. "Oh. WOw. See? When you get a new message, this thing at the top'll pop up and you tap it and it'll show you the full... message...." Tapping the banner, Jeongin opened a text from Minho.

“ ** _From: Minho-hyung_ **

** _Jisung, you ate... right? Don't forget to take the pills._ ** "

Jeongin snorted as he read the message out loud. For some reason, Jisung's ears tinged with a pink flush. He hadn’t expected the check-in and was feeling something between annoyance (didn’t Minho trust him to do things on his own?) and timid discomfort (someone who actively cared about his well-being truly existed? Was he imagining things?)

"Alright, so to answer, you just type in this box. Emojis are under that little tab, right there."

So, sitting in the lab, stomach full from eating (sans the nauseatingly spicy ddeokbokki), Jisung was immersed in his work. Occasionally, he took small breaks to answer the messages that had been coming since lunch.

** _Just ate and took them. Thanks for asking._ ** The conversation felt awkward with the lack of physical cues.

** _Is your ankle doing okay?_ **

** _They gave me crutches as soon as I got here (eye roll). Some asshole complained about me walking too slow and blocking 'traffic'._ **

** _Wow. At least you're off of it, though._ **

Jisung bit his lip. Should he tell Minho about the required doctors visit?  _ No. _

Picturing the elder dropping everything just to appease the school nurse made his face twist in disgust.  _ He's already done so much. I can't ask him to do that. It’s just bruised. _

** _Do you have anything you need to do tonight?_ **

** _Just some homework. Then working, right?_ ** Jisung's breath caught. He ignored his entire project in favor of nervously staring at the screen.  _ He can't know.. Right?? Jeongin… you better not have squealed.  _ It wasn’t the youngest’s place to say anything.

** _Okay._ ** Jisung exhaled, slumping back into his chair.

For the rest of the school day, he worked on another song that was set to be a part of his portfolio. It was coming along… slowly. But, coming nonetheless.

  
  


Jisung didn't stop working until the phone vibrated from his pocket after a long period of silence.

** _From: In and out~<3!!!_ **

** _Hyung~~ have you gone back yet?_ **

** _I'm at the music lab._ **

** _I know where that is! I'll be right there and we can go back together!!_ **

Though he was really into his project, entirely happy with the way it was melding together, Jisung had no choice but to stop once a sweaty Jeongin bounced through the lab door.

"DIIINNNEEEERRRR  _ TIIIIIMMMEEEEEEEEE! _ "

Jisung thankfully had the foresight to pack his backpack up- not forgetting to carefully wrap Changbin's headphones- because the younger male all but sprawled onto his lab desk.

"You ready to gooo? gET DINNER!?! The hyungs always make our meals on Wednesdays. It's just kind of... a 'thing'." Bringing his hand up, as if to whisper a secret in the otherwise empty room, the youngest smirked. "And don't tell Channie-hyung, but I think Woojin's dinners are the best."

Thankfully, Jeongin was patient with Jisung's crutch-hindered walking. It took them less time than it had in the morning to cover the distance, but had it been Jisung in the younger's position: he would've lost his mind. 

Jeongin recanted how his classes had gone and how annoying all members of the junior class were. The worst, though, were underclassmen on the tennis team who thought they had the skill to boss  _ him _ around. "I can't believe them! They're so annoying and they can't even serve right!!"  _ If he’s on the tennis team… how did I not see him before? _

Jisung laughed and chimed in at appropriate times, slowly becoming more animated as the lull of school left him. His armpits hurt and his hands were sweaty, but it didn't take as much mental power for Jisung  _ not  _ to trip over his one working leg, anymore.

The cafe was truly lively for the first time, since Jisung began frequenting the establishment. The pair could hear the cacophony from down the street; cheering and sarcastic comments being thrown back and forth. When Jisung and Jeongin crossed the entryway, they found:

Woojin amusedly watching Felix and Hyunjin fight over a bread roll;

Changbin and Seungmin bickering from across the table, sitting next to their respective partners;

and Chan serving the table with an expression far too serene to fit the obnoxious atmosphere.

" _ DINNER _ !" screeched Jeongin, immediately launching himself into Seungmin’s lap. In his struggle to balance the clingy boy Seungmin knocked the aforementioned roll out of the air and nearly kicked Chan- who had several empty dishes stacked in his arms.

Despite the gluten tragedy, Hyunjin and Felix nearly jumped out of their seats, yelling in harmony: "Innie! Welcome back!" 

Jeongin giggled as Seungmin slide him over his lap to the middle of the bench. The boys on both sides cooed and petted the youngest’s hair, spitting out questions about and getting replies just as fast.  _ It's like they've rehearsed this. _

Jisung leaned on his crutches, watching the scene from the doorway. It was obvious just from watching the interactions that all of the boys were close. And the only one was missing…  _ Minho-hyung? _

In the short time that he'd day-dreamed, Changbin had walked to the entrance.

"Are you going to come in, or not?"

Jisung jumped, frightened. One of his crutches nearly slid out from under him, but his reflexes saved him. (Or, maybe, Changbin had enough charity in him to stick a foot out and stop the cursed crutch from moving. It was  _ totally  _ his fabulous reflexes…. totally.)

"In!" he squeaked.  _ Not that I have anywhere else to go _ . At that point, it felt like returning to the cafe was almost a promise. One that he didn't necessarily make; but, it was important not to break, anyway.

Changbin bent down and untied Jisung's shoes, assisting him in slipping them off before pointing at the fully occupied table. Apparently, Jisung's rushing thoughts of 'there’s no empty spots, I'll just sit somewhere else' were evident on his face- because Changbin huffed, leaving the injured boy where he was still planted. Jisung’s eyes followed the rather short barista as he dragged one of the loose chairs over to the booth, making as much noise as possible, before placing it at the end and dusting off the seat with his fingertips. With a graceful turn, he spun and gestured at the chair. With innocence coating underlying condescension, Changbin bowed.

"Young Master, your spot is ready for you.”

The heads at the table all silenced and spun, as if they hadn't realized Jisung's presence when he'd first come in.

Felix left his place across from Seungmin to run across the room, excitedly shouting, "Jiiiiiiiiiissuuuungggggggg!" Barely stopping his slide in time, the boy teetered on his toes, hands crashing onto Jisung's shoulders. Breathless, despite the short distance, Felix grinned- eyes crinkling. "Welcome back!"

Jisung, though he hadn't moved a single inch, was somehow breathless as well.

Still, he managed a very sincere: "glad to be back."

"Is your foot okay? Did something happen? Will it be okay if you put your crutches up? They'll probably cause you more problems than not, in here.."

_ That's right. They don't know... _

Felix took Jisung's hesitation with a negative connotation. "Ah! If you want to keep them that's okay, too!"

Rather than attempt to fumble through more words, Jisung adamantly shook his head and pulled the crutches out from his arms. Balancing on his good foot- the last painkillers he'd remembered to take were wearing off and the throbbing had definitely returned in full force- Jisung managed a small, pained smile at his twin.

Felix took the crutches, resting them against the nearest table, before looking Jisung up and down. Under the weird, analytic gaze, Jisung shrank into himself. It was taking enough mental fortitude for Jisung to psych himself up to walk the fifteen feet to the booth- he didn't need any additional stress.

Suddenly, Felix scooped his twin up- one arm under his shoulders, the other in the crook of his knee. Jisung stiffened. He was still wearing his backpack- he couldn't be  _ that _ light.

"Ah! Put me down! I can walk!"

Felix ignored the boy, grinning widening as he covered the distance to the table and carefully deposited the boy into his seat.

"I can walk too! But, it was much more fun like that~ now we can eat!"

It seemed like they had been eating when the last of the school boys arrived; however, the food plates were all untouched- save for the lone, sacrificed roll.

As soon as Jisung had taken off his backpack and righted his position, everyone clapped their hands together, yelling in unison, "We'll eat well!"

_ It'd be amazing if Minho-hyung hasn't had noise complaints before. _

Chan leaned over the back of Jisung’s chair, looking at the table with pure satisfaction. In a hushed tone, he spoke directly to the student: "you ate lunch, right?"

Jisung looked up, to find Chan's head directly over his. If the elder lowered his head a single centimeter, there would be a chin would be resting on Jisung's crown.

Humming, Jisung pulled the almost empty lunch box out of his bag. He didn't  _ need _ to prove that he'd eaten; but, it felt nice to have the elder free of worry.

"Was the ddeokbokki too spicy?" Memories of his tongue nearly melting off rose to mind and Jisung nodded fervently. 

Chan laughed, the sound filling the younger's ears over the ensuing mischief around the table. Pointing at a dish on the far end, Chan spoke even closer to the younger's ear, as if he was revealing a secret, "don't eat that one, then. It's by Woojin and Changbinnie for a reason."

"Got it." Chan's warmth was  _ almost  _ overwhelming, short-circuiting Jisung’s remaining brain cells, until it quickly withdrew. The blonde barista, though he was lacking the customary apron, went and sat behind the register.

With his focus back on the table, Jisung realized that a mountain of food had already been placed in front of him. His eyes widened.

Felix, from his immediate right, was the only one to notice Jisung’s inner panic. "You don't have to eat all of it, but I figured it'd be better for you to at least have  _ something _ before these monsters eat it all.

Not that the trio to his left was particularly eating fast, they were too enamored with stealing small, specific bits off of each other's plates.

Changbin spoke with a sour note in his voice, "ignore them. They're picky as shit when it comes to food." The comment earned him a light slap on the head from Woojin, who was seated in the right side’s far corner. "It's disgusting to watch, but at least they're eating well." Satisfied with the addendum, Woojin patted the spot he'd hit and withdrew his hand to eat.

"Like  _ you two _ aren't bad! You're  _ always  _ laying on top of each other! I bet Felix's leg is over yours, right now!" Hyunjin snarked across the table, shaking a salad leaf at Changbin.

"Not at all! You're wrong!" Changbin stuck his tongue out, overly happy with Hyunjin's incorrectness.

Felix pulled Changbin close with an adoring whine. Rubbing his cheek into the elder's hair, he smirked.

" _ BOTH _ my legs are over his."

Hyunjin dropped his head to the table, nearly knocking over his mug. "That's the same thing!"

"No it's not!"  _ Felix is definitely the king of mimicking _ . Jisung watched the two bicker like it was a tennis match. He still hadn't touched his pile of food, too caught up in the dinner show. The three other, non-involved, boys at the table were merely calmly eating, as if there wasn’t about to be a food fight or a wrestling match directly next to them. 

"Yes, it is!"

"Doesn't matter because either way,  _ I win~!! _ " Felix sang the last couple words, looking entirely satisfied.

"Win, what?"

"Binnie's heart!!!"

At that, Felix launched himself over and onto Changbin's lap, nearly knocking the table over in the process. His knee skimmed Woojin's thigh, forcefully sliding into the small gap between the two boys.

Hyunjin scoffed, folding meat into a wrap and stuffing it into Jeongin's mouth. The poor boy nearly choked, eyes watering at the much-too-large conglomeration. Without even looking over, Seungmin patted his back, silently willing Jeongin to breathe.

"I'm sorry about them. I wish I could say they weren't usually like this... but they are. Hasn't changed in years." Though his words sounded harsh, Seungmin was smiling into his soup.

Jisung just shook his head, finally picking up his chopsticks to attack the pile. He was only a few bites in when Chan slid into Felix's now open spot, brandishing his own, overly shiny pair of chopsticks. Looking up at Jisung with glittering eyes, he asked, "want some help?"

His mouth- and cheeks- were full, but Jisung managed a garbled, "please", and it was all the permission that Chan needed to demolish a quarter of the food within seconds.

Though Chan definitely ate most of the food, Jisung was full when he pushed the plate away from him, and his mind was numb from the endless chatter around the table. 

Felix still hadn't moved from his position on Changbin's lap. His head was tucked into the dark haired boy's neck and Jisung was  _ pretty _ sure that he was sleeping given how slow his back was rising and falling.  _ How he can sleep with all this noise: I have no idea. _

It was Woojin who piled all the empty dishes together; Jeongin who wiped the table down with a couple spare napkins; and Seungmin who took the piles to the kitchen with a grateful nod from Chan. 

Jisung attempted to help, but was immediately pushed back into his chair by Chan with a disgruntled look.  _ I’m injured- not useless,  _ Jisung wanted to argue. But the light glare he was given told him that it would’ve been pointless. Part of him could almost hear Chan’s internal chide: ‘ _ this is what family is for.’ _

When Seungmin returned he grabbed Jeongin under the armpits and pulled him away from Hyunjin, out of the booth. "I think we need to be getting home, this sleepy baby is going to pass out any second now and I  _ know  _ he has homework to do for tomorrow."  _ Do they live together? They're just highschoolers.. there's no way…? _

Jeongin groaned, allowing his deadweight to fall carelessly into the elder boy. Hyunjin slid out as well, coming to stand next to the duo. He pouted, lip sticking out, "you're leaving me behind?!"

"You don't have any homework and you already said you were going to stay with Bin-hyung tonight. Don't  _ even  _ try that.” Seungmin's voice softened as he pulled Jeongin into a standing position. “We'll be waiting for you whenever you decide to come back, you know that." 

Hyunjin stomped in place, swinging his arms back and forth like a toddler.

Jeongin turned and latched himself onto the tall boy, with a failed attempt to quiet the movements. Hyunjin just kept failing, glaring at Seungmin over the youngest's head.

With a heavy sigh and a shake of his head, Seungmin joined Jeongin, sandwiching Hyunjin between them. At last, he stopped whining.

Jisung blushed and looked back at the empty table; feeling as if there was a scene going on behind him that should've been occuring behind closed doors.

Averting his gaze didn't make him miss the soft echoes of "we'll be waiting."

A few seconds later, both boys gathered their things and called "see you later!"s over their shoulders. Jisung felt that it was more directed at Hyunjin than the rest of them; nevertheless, he turned around and cheerily waved. "Good night!"

Jeongin, meeting Jisung's gaze, returned the wave with a tired: "see you in the morning, hyung."

Less than half an hour later, Woojin and Chan also bid their goodbyes. But, not before the eldest rewrapped Jisung's ankle, reminding him to ice and elevate it as much as possible. 

The couple pulled a very reluctant Felix with them, hushing him with promises of returning later if he finished ...something? .. _ homework? Maybe he's got chores, or something. And Minho-hyung still hasn't come... I wonder if he's got the night off.. _

Minho's schedule seemed far more erratic than the rest of the boys, but maybe that was the woes of becoming the owner of a business. Considering that Changbin was planted behind the register with a bored look on his face, it didn't seem like Minho would be in any time soon.

Hyunjin, now ‘alone’, had no issues hopping over to one of the stools at the counter and settling in. Changbin didn’t look up, though his posture relaxed and he looked less like he was going to clock any customer that dared to walk through the doors. 

Feeling somewhat awkward in the newfound silence, Jisung pulled out his books and set up house at the table. It would've been better if he was seated inside the booth, for the reason that the chair was numbing his butt, but the pain of moving was  _ definitely _ not worth it.

Math was easily finished; history was tedious but thoughtless; he'd finished the English paper last week; and there wasn't anything he could do for his composition class, at this point, without a computer.

Resting his head against the pile of books, Jisung sighed. The sun had completely gone down a while ago, and it was so late that the few numbers of customers that  _ did _ come in, completely ceased to exist. The warm lighting above Jisung was lulling him further to sleep with every passing second.

Throwing the stack rather carelessly into his bag, Jisung realized for the first time that he was still in his school uniform. The clothes fit so well, it was easier to ignore than it had been before; but, that didn't mean the awkward pressure from the belt on his full stomach was something that he could put up with for a long time.

Packed bag sitting on the table and a change of clothes thrown over his shoulder, Jisung spun in his chair, bracing himself to stand. 

The duo were still by the counter, but now they were leaning into each other, a fluffy orange body stretched out over their close laps. They were lazily scratching the cat, alternating strokes from head to tail like a well-oiled machine. A video was playing on the phone in front of them.

_ I really shouldn't have given up my crutches _ . If it had been Woojin, Chan, or Felix, he'd be comfortable asking for help, but these two?  _ Hell, no. I'd rather break my other ankle. _

So- he hobbled to the bathroom, using the walls, and hissing every time his bruised ankle scraped against the baseboards. Without reserve, his tiredness eliminating any thoughts of hesitancy, Jisung washed up. As always, there were fresh towels hung over the bar and his black bag was nestled next to the first aid kit under the counter.

Showering was tricky- he had to awkwardly stick his bandaged foot outside of the shower  _ and _ try not to get water everywhere. Still, it was better than nothing. Or- a sponge bath. Jisung shivered. 

He still didn't have any pajamas- not that he could complain.  _ At. all _ ., Jisung reminded himself- so he dressed in his work pants and a loose, white undershirt.

Jisung was halfway through arranging his hair into a suitable fashion-  _ don't want them to think worse than me than they probably already do- _ when he heard in quick succession: a heavy thud, a cat screeching hysterically, and Changbin yell:

"MINHO!!"


	25. 쉿

Jisung hadn't expected that missing a singular doctor's appointment would land him in the principal's office.

_ Why do I even bother coming to school if they never let me go to class? This is stupid. _

The principal, Ms. Jeong, was situated in her large chair across from him. For the last twenty minutes she’d been lecturing and interrogating him, rather unsuccessfully, on his home life situation. Though he didn’t divulge very much information- what was there to tell?- he was fucked. Whether he did or didn’t open his mouth, Ms. Jeong seemed to take every little action down as evidence in her growing notes.

"Mr. Han, this is child abuse and we are just trying to resolve the issue as fast as possible. I hope you understand. However, there are no contact numbers for either of your parents in your file, so I need you to provide those to us. You can write it down on this note here... and I will transfer it to your file. If you don’t give them now, it will be the police you will be talking to next. I cannot let this go on any longer." 

The most horrifying pink post-it note was slid in front of Jisung, who was doing everything in his power not to shake, vomit, or sprint out of the overly-decorated office. Or- maybe- a combination of the three. Ms. Jeong didn't seem to know how much she was stressing him out, obviously, but he was fucked. _ No matter what I do, this isn’t going to end well. _ No dad and his mom was M.I.A.- not that she had a phone, anyway. Jisung had _ finally _ gotten a home and set his life on the path to somewhere better. Of course it wouldn’t last long. _ It’s just my luck. Nothing good ever lasts. _

Horrifying images of group homes, oatmeal-resembling slop for all three meals, and cringey bunk mates flashed through Jisung’s head. _ I can’t go there. I’ve made it this long. No. I won’t. _ Nevermind that he’d just turned eighteen less than a month ago. Jisung made a promise to himself, then and there, that if he was taken away from his current life- he would just run away. Back to the cafe, out of town, wherever he needed to go until he was able to properly support himself. Hell, maybe he could win the competition out of sheer karma. That would solve _ all _ of his issues.

Settling for honesty, Jisung clasped his hands and looked at the principal with his most sincere, apologetic expression. "Ma'am, my parents don't have cell phones. We can't afford them." _ Can't afford phones, just like how we can't afford to go to the _ doctors. Considering that their school was in the less well-off neighborhood in the area, it _ can't _have been the first time someone had issues like his.

"I understand that there may be financial difficulties at hand, Mr. Han, but we are required by law to have, at minimum, one emergency contact for each of our students. Surely, there must be someone- an aunt, guardian, or even a godparent- that qualifies for that position. We cannot leave until this issue is resolved, so I hope you will think fast." Ms. Jeong was looking at him with a steely gaze that only made Jisung want to sink further into his chair. _ There's no one, though? _

At his silence, the principal huffed and abruptly stood.

"Well, I will give you a couple of minutes, alone, to see if you can recall any names or numbers. I'm going to go check your file for any other discrepancies and if you _ still _ haven't managed to think of any- I will schedule for an agent to go for a home visit.” The overly-kind way she spoke made Jisung think that she was forcing this conversation to cover the school legally, rather than having any actual concern for his education or well-being. “We need to get your ankle treated, Mr. Han. It is disrupting your studies and other activities. Not to mention, it could get worse if you don't have professional aid."

To put it bluntly- Jisung felt like he was going to die. And _ no- _that’s not hyperbole. 

As soon as the door shut behind the principal, his breathing picked up to the point it was hard to tell when he was breathing in and when he was breathing out. Perhaps- he stopped breathing altogether. Parts of Jisung’s body that he didn’t know could even sweat were sweating and his hands were shaking like he was being electrocuted. Jisung's brain was short circuiting with the excruciatingly stressful effort of trying to find a solution to a problem that he should’ve known would occur sooner, or later.

He hadn't even been home for the last couple days to see how his mom was doing. _ If she's even still alive _, the dark part of his brain supplied. The thought didn't help.

_ Minho-hyung _ was the first name his instincts came up with. The elder had constantly solved his problems and supplied solutions for issues that Jisung hadn't even realized existed. But- Minho... was having enough issues of his own.

Felix, Jeongin, Seungmin, Changbin, and Hyunjin were all in class.

That left the elders. Jisung had no idea if Felix had their numbers, but he _ had _ to, right? _ They're all so close- one of them has _ got _ to be in here _.

Unlocking the device took a few more seconds than he'd have liked- and to Jisung's terror, he almost locked the device out from putting in the code wrong too many times.

Jisung clicked the icon with the word ‘contacts’ under it and found a list with various pictures and nicknames, all of which Jisung easily associated with the cafe boys.

"'In and out', 'Minho-hyung', 'Binnie-binnie'... Felix isn't that too much of a difference?" Jisung joked to himself despite his still-increasing panic. The humor didn’t stop his shaking.

When he found a picture of Chan with the name "Big Bro Chris", Jisung just took it as another inside joke and hurriedly pressed ‘call’.

Jisung was hunched over in the chair, hiding from the door just in case the principal entered while he was making the call. With the phone on the quietest setting possible, pressed harshly against his ear, Jisung tried to calm himself. If he couldn't articulate the situation as fast as possible, he increased the possibility of getting caught. And having to explain how _ he _ had a phone- but none of his family- was a situation Jisung didn't want to put himself through. 

After three long rings- the phone picked up.

"Lix? What's up?" There was rustling in the background that accompanied Chan's sleep-infected voice. If it were any other situation, Jisung would’ve laughed (endearingly- of course-)at the elder’s heavy accented Korean.

"Ch- Chan-hyung?" His breathing was still erratic. Particularly, because Jisung hadn’t thought of _ how _ to explain the problem- he’d just called out of pure panic. Jisung still couldn't draw a single full breath and it was making him light headed. The only sensation that grounded him was the tight grip he had on Felix's phone- his only lifeline.

"Jisung?" More movement in the background and Chan sounded considerably more awake. "What's wrong? Aren't you at school? Did something happen?"

In the background, Jisung heard a low rumbling that sounded similar; but, Jisung’s nerves were too on-edge to place it.

"Hyun- ng." He had to focus. Ms. Jeong was going to be back any minute. A shaky, deep breath.

"Jisung- slow down. What's going on?" The pace at which Chan was talking slowed- as if he was trying to influence Jisung’s state from wherever he was.

"They- the school is trying to investigate my file. I- there's no emergency address or contact or whatever in my file and they're about to call the police for child abuse."

The elder's alarm was blatant. "Wait, what!? Why?"

"My ankle. I didn’t see a doctor. My mom doesn't have a phone and I don't even know if she's working- I haven't seen her in over a week. They want a contact. I don't even have a home address in my file and they’re going to find _ that _ out, too, and the princi- cipal said she won't let me go u- until it's re- resolved. Hyu-" Jisung's attempts at relaying information calmly completely dissolved by the time he’d finished. He was on the edge of tears. Hiccuping, even.

Woojin's voice replaced Chan's. The eldest's voice was deep and clear through the receiver. "Jisung. I know it's hard- but you've got to calm down. If your principal comes in and sees you freaking out, she's going to know something’s up. The issue is your emergency contact, right? Do you have a pen?" Jisung made a watery, affirmative noise. The note and pen Ms. Jeong had pushed towards him earlier were still within reach. "Okay. Write this down." Woojin, without pausing, relayed an address- including a phone number!- to Jisung. It sounded as if the other had the information ingrained in his brain, as it automatically came out without any mistakes.

"Got it?" Jisung repeated the sound from earlier. The threatening tears had receded, but he was still too stuffed up to talk clearly. "Tell her that's the house your godparents are moving into, though they haven't settled in yet. That way- she won't be inclined to investigate it. And if she wants _ more _information, tell her you’ll get it to her tomorrow morning. Jisung- are you still there?"

Jisung cleared his throat. Now, he wanted to cry for an entirely different reason. Relief. Overwhelming, sensory-numbing relief.

"Here." The word was muffled from Jisung wiping his nose, forcefully willing all the liquids back inside of his face.

"Did you get it all?" The student read what he had written, slowly, enforcing each syllable.

"Good."

The phone was passed back to Chan, who had calmed down since the eldest had taken over.

"Sungie- it's going to be okay. You can call us back if there are any more issues and we'll help you fix them, alright? That's what we're here for. Now, just focus on your breathing and wait for her to come back in." As if he needed the reassurance just as much as Jisung did, Chan reiterated, "it's going to be okay."

"Thanks, hyungs." His voice was still rough, but the stuttering, hiccuping, and hyperventilating had finally died down.

With muffled goodbyes from both the elders, the call ended.

Jisung was only left to fidget with his clothes for a whole, whopping five seconds before the door behind him opened and an unfamiliar person walked in. The rather short and stumpy man held his hand out for Jisung to shake.

"I'm Ms. Jeong's secretary- she informed me of your situation. Currently, she's attending to other matters, so I'm here in her place." The man spoke in a monotone- like he hated having to explain himself and wanted nothing more than the day to be over with. "Have you procured an address and/ or a telephone number?"

Wordlessly, Jisung held the pink paper out to the man. With less interest than Jisung had in pre-calculus class, the secretary read it over. "And this is for... your godparents? to be listed as your emergency contact, is that correct?"

"Yes, sir."

"Understood. Well, Mr. Han-" Jisung was really tired of being called that. He wanted nothing more than to be home and called the random nicknames his family threw around. 

_Family? _

Jisung- flustered- brushed the thought away and forced himself to focus on the secretary's words. "...have until this coming Monday to bring a doctor's report or else Ms. Jeong is going to recommend a case to the local police department under the terms of child abuse and neglect." Never before had Jisung heard such a threatening idea been delivered so uncaringly. _ Monday... that's... three days? Great... _ At least he wasn't about to be instantly put into the system. 

With a wave of his unoccupied hand, Jisung was dismissed, "you may go to your classes now, get a pass from the front office. Remember: Monday." 

It was then that a blaring, flashing alarm caused both males to duck and cover their ears.

_ ...a fire? _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going on vacation~! So this story will be left here for the next few weeks! Sorry, not sorry. I'm sure I'll find a bunch of great inspiration on my travels. Until next time~ stay safe y'all <3
> 
> °˖✧◝(⁰▿⁰)◜✧˖°
> 
> Oh! Food for thought. I wrote this story following a chart for OT9 in regards to "primary, secondary, and purely platonic" relationships. So going forward, try to figure those out! I'll tell you each character has three in total (except Jisung and Minho, who have four since they're main characters). Though, they can still be friends outside of those three, they're written considerably less affectionately. Also, some combinations of relationship types are random! For instance, one member has one of each type- and another has one primary partner and two platonic. Just something to think about during the break^^~


	26. 42

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With a wave of his unoccupied hand, Jisung was dismissed, "you may go to your classes now, get a pass from the front office. Remember: Monday."   
It was then that a blaring, flashing alarm caused both males to duck and cover their ears.  
...a fire?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I mentioned last chapter, there's a chart I use to write this story's relationships.  
And the first person's partners I'm going to reveal are Seungmin's!   
Primary: Hyunjin, Jeongin  
Platonic: Changbin  
°˖✧◝(⁰▿⁰)◜✧˖°

The stubby man pointed a finger in Jisung’s direction. “You. Out. Now. Go to the spot where your class should be meeting up.”

Like the rest of the students- Jisung didn't give a singular fuck about the ‘fire’. 

Rather than go where he was directed, Jisung took off towards the music wing- just to quell any worries about the lab being the source of the fire (there were far too many cables and daisy-chained electronics in there). 

Within a couple minutes, he made it. Various yells from panicking teachers attempting to deter him caught his attention, but none deterred him. He  _ had to know. _ One particularly old hag had even turned forced Jisung to turn around, with hands forcefully placed on his shoulders, and started pushing him the other direction.

It only felt like he could truly breathe once he found the music wing empty- and  _ not _ in flames. Relieved, Jisung sighed and exited the building through the nearest doorway. 

Finding his own class was pointless. 

No one would recognize his absence. Or, his presence. 

Fighting his way through the chaos, Jisung set off towards the Junior’s field. Thankfully, each grade organized in different areas and they had never changed throughout his educational years.

It took more apologetic head bobs than he would've preferred; but, once he made it into the vicinity, it was pretty difficult to miss Jeongin. The entirety of the tennis team also seemed to ignore their assigned classes; choosing to simply flock together at the back of the school’s field.

The moment Jisung locked eyes with the younger, the familiar bubbly mass flew over to where Jisung was miserably hopping around.

"HYUNG! You made it out. I'm glad." There was something off about the boy's presence, but Jisung pushed it to the back of his mind. He definitely didn't look his best, either. Who was  _ he  _ to judge? Maybe- it was just the effects of the long school week. (Not that he'd been there the entire time. Or, at all.  _ Really-  _ Jisung just couldn't think of any excuses. )

"Any idea what happened? I was just about to go to class when the alarm went off..."

"Well," Jeongin coughed- suddenly looking everywhere but Jisung- "I- uh... There  _ seemed  _ to have been a fire by the dumpsters.  _ Really-  _ I wonder who was stupid enough... "

"Ah. At least it was over  _ there _ .” The only dumpsters in the entire grounds were over by the athletic wing. It was a common (and widely known) location for the school’s hoodlums to hangout there at all times of day. And the officials  _ rarely  _ did anything to stop the meetings. “They replace all their- mmm,  _ your _ \- equipment like every year anyway."

"That's not true! We-"

_ "YANG JEONGIN!" _ The voice... of Ms. Jeong?... shrieked over the students, piercing through every conversation in the area. 

"Awww,  _ fuck. Damn it."  _ Jeongin suddenly was cursing with an expression of resigned annoyance. All members of the junior class turned in unison- and some had the audacity to point in the boy's direction.  _ Fucking traitors. He’s one of your own. _ The only thing that could be heard apart from Jeongin’s cursing were the brazen jeers from the tennis team:

"Oh~ boy~"

"Our little foxy’s done fucked up now!"

"I can't believe it. Of all people." followed by dramatic weeping.

“Put ‘em up!”

"You better go talk to her Yang."

Jeongin scoffed in the group’s general direction before finally meeting Jisung's confused gaze. "Well, hyung. This is the end of my line. I'm sorry we only got to walk together onc-"

"YANG. JEONGIN. COME HERE.  _ NOW!!! _ I WILL  _ NOT  _ REPEAT MYSELF  _ AGAIN!!!!"  _

The principal’s shrill voice grated on everyone’s nerves, making several people wince and cover their ears. Jeongin sighed. The murmurs around them increased again.

"Isn’t that Ms. Jeong? Mrs. Jang? What was her name again?”

"Why's she wet?"

“Looks like she had fun~ wish I could’ve been there with her.”

A few inappropriate jokes floated past the boys; soon becoming lost in the rising cacophony of laughter.

The pair looked up, craning their necks to see what the other students were finding so hilarious. There- standing just outside of the nearest exit- was indeed Ms. Jeong. Soaking wet, with long hair plastered to her face, clothing nearly see through.

"Oh, man- this was  _ all  _ worth it. I'm going down happy, now. See ya at the cafe, hyung." At that, the younger took off- almost skipping- to the principal's side.

As soon as they came face to face: everyone could see the adult’s fury attempting to battle Jeongin's overly exaggerated, insincere nods.

_ Wow. Did Jeongin-? No way. _ Jisung laughed to himself in disbelief.  _ What kind of kid... _ He felt like he should've expected a different outcome... but somehow the image of Yang Jeongin setting a fire-  _ somehow? _ \- to the school was just... fitting. 

_ But why did the sprinklers- _

An awful  _ screee- a sound that could only belong to  _ a megaphone- cut through the air.

"Excuse me, excuse me. Quiet down, please." 

An adult- some member of the staff, judging by the lanyard- was doing his best hush the crowd. It took a couple of minutes and a lot of rising frustration; but, eventually the shrimpy man was able to announce: "We're sorry to announce that the school will be closed-"  _ cheers  _ "until Monday."  _ even louder cheering. _

An unexpected,  _ free _ , four day?  _ Hell yeah. _

"There is mandatory maintenance required to fix the malfunction in the school's sprinkler system and the team who has to do the work is unable to be here until tomorrow. Thus, you are all dismissed. If you need to pick up your things from inside, you may do so. However, please be aware that the entirety of the athletics wing is currently experiencing the malfunctions and you need to exercise caution when going through those areas." The very thought of attempting to use his crutches on wet surfaces made Jisung shiver. "If you ride the buses, they will arrive within the next hour at their normal locations. Enjoy your weekends." 

Jeongin was gone; escorted inside the school by an extremely peeved principal.  _ Should I wait...? _ Thoughts of Minho's condition flashed through Jisung's head and the decision wasn't a question any longer. He might be on crutches- but he wasn’t helpless. 

It just might take him longer than he'd prefer. 

The painkillers he'd taken before school hadn’t worn off yet; but, the only way he'd feel better- mentally  _ or  _ physically- was to be back at the cafe. To make sure that everything - _ everyone-  _ was okay with his own eyes. The way that the establishment seemed to transport him to a different world, one of calm and sincere caring people, was undoubtedly magical.

The phone, stashed away in his back pocket buzzed. 

Doing his best to avoid being knocked around by the- now rambunctious- crowd, Jisung pulled the device out and was surprised to see that the message was from Chan. He’d expected it to be Jeongin, letting him in on the situation.  _ Is something wrong? Did Minho hyu- _ Rather that worry himself needlessly, Jisung shook the thoughts out of his head and opened the text:

** _From: Big Bro Chris_ **

** _Sungie! You're at school still, right? Wait for us- okay? Woojin and I will be there in about ten minutes. We can all go back together once we get Jeongin, okay?_ **

More amused at the amount of questions the elder had been able to pack into such a message than he should be, Jisung quickly typed back:

** _Okay. I'll wait at the front gate._ **

_ I wonder what happened with Jeongin. I hope he’s not in too much trouble… With the school or otherwise... _ It didn't seem like the maknae had a habit of creating trouble- especially, if he wanted to keep his spot on the tennis team. But, Jisung didn't know him very well, either.

The crowd of people had, for the most part, dispersed when Jisung finally looked up. The grass around him was well trodden now, allowing his crutches to traverse easier. Well, as long as he managed not to catch one of the ends under the numerous patches of stiff weeds.

Jisung managed, somehow, to make it to the front gate without completely face-planting. Not a single time! Quite a feat, that was causing Jisung to smile shamelessly at strangers rushing out of the school grounds. He must look weird, but a smile would definitely be the most normal thing about him on that day, so  _ oh well. _

As promised, WooChan showed up only a couple minutes after Jisung had settled against a tree near the main pathway. Their hair was equally matted with sweat and wind-blown. Together, they looked like a pair of professional models; the cafe clothes only completing the looks. Chan’s expression was one of barely contained fury while Woojin merely looked around the grounds with mild amusement.

The two spotted Jisung and his injured glory as soon as they crossed the threshold; instantly rushing over to him.

Chan wasted no time in kneeling next to him, instantly switching to Worried Dad Mode. With his hands carefully placed on Jisung's shoulders, he searched the student for any blatant signs of discomfort or negativity.

"Sungie, are you doing okay? How's your ankle? Did you get caught in the fire? I can’t believe he did that... " Chan's lip caught between his teeth as he paused in his interrogations.

Before Jisung could begin to process the questions, Woojin placed his hand on the blonde’s shoulder, diverting Chan's attention. "Don't you think we should go get Innie, first? We can hear  _ all _ about  _ both  _ their days once we're all together."

Nodding in agreement, Chan turned back to Jisung and continued- slightly calmer: "are you going to be okay for the next couple minutes? We have to go rescue Innie from The Witch."

At the unexpected nickname, Jisung let out a muffled snicker which obviously made both the elder's relax. "Yes, dads. I will be sitting here and still alive when both of you return to rescue me from this tree. Not like I can run away, if I wanted to." At the ending remark, Chan's brow furrowed further, not wanting to believe that they were forcing Jisung to do something he was uncomfortable with. So, the younger hurriedly tacked on: "I don't want to run away, if that's what you're thinking, Chan-hyung. I'll be here. Waiting."

Chan looked like he wanted to comment further; but, quickly closed closed his mouth and stood. Without hesitation, Woojin threw an arm around Chan's shoulders and silently guided them into the school with far more knowledge of the buildings than Jisung had expected.

Not knowing how long he'd be waiting there, Jisung set himself up against the tree. The courtyard was fairly quiet, save for the random yells of students waiting for the buses to arrive in the distance. The weather was nice; with wind which blew slowly and a few clouds scattered across the sky. Altogether, it was perfect napping conditions.

The scenery may have been beautiful but waking up to the same awful face his last school day had started with was nothing less than utterly repulsive. 

A swift, accurate kick to his wrapped ankle had Jisung jumping out of his body- so shocked that he couldn't even muster the wits to scream. His pant legs were hitched up from his sitting position, so there was no mistaking the attackers intent.  _ Who the fu- _

Suddenly, there was a body squatting over his lap- pinning his legs in place- and a hand under his jaw, forcing Jisung to meet the aggressor's eyes.  _ Oh. This guy. _

"It's you- isn't it." A statement. Not a question. 

The boy's breath reeked; assaulting all of Jisung's senses- making his eyes water and lungs heave. His body convulsed against the tree, seeking to get as far away from the source as possible. Jisung whimpered, but didn’t answer. He couldn’t if he wanted to. The hand on his jaw dug in, nails nearly breaking the skin. 

"You know what I'm talking about." The additional comment had Jisung clenching his eyes shut; twisting his body in futile attempts to get away from the putrid stench.

"You wanna play like  _ that  _ you little-" the grip changed from his chin to his neck, and another hand was added. Jisung was fucked. Choked, strangled, losing air by the millisecond. All of the above.

He was going to pass out even though he’d  _ just  _ promised Chan he’d be there and alive when they returned. Who knows what the guy wanted to do to Jisung- probably the same thing he wanted with Mr. Lee: skin him, sell his organs, make a show of him to the entire town. All of the above?  _ Maybe he'll get his fill with me and give up on the competition. _

If Jisung… wasn't there... there'd be  _ so many _ less issues.

In the background, Jisung registered the sounds of Mr. Filth spitting in his face and aggressively shaking his upper body around like it was a rag doll. The concussions from previous days reawoke and Jisung had no sense of when his head- or body, for that matter- had stopped or started moving. Everything was spinning in a mesmerizing array of colors. He'd closed his eyes some time ago; but, colors still floated around his vision, creating beautiful patterns.

And then the pressure was gone.

He could breathe.

The weight on his legs was gone.

Jisung, on reflex, took in a huge breath, nearly choked on it, and opened his eyes in renewed panic. His surroundings blinded him, temporarily stunning him. Jisung quickly hid behind his arms, blocking out the sun. And the sounds. And the smells. It was all far too much.

Jisung took his time bringing himself back to the present.

**Feeling ** came first.  _ Unfortunately. _ Breathing steadily was a joke; and no matter how much Jisung tried to shield his eyes from the sun and the sight of the gruesome male towering over him, he couldn't. His leg felt a thousand times worse due to the impact it had received. No longer were there little electric throbs- now it just felt like there was a glass bottle continuously being driven into every part of his ankle. His throat pulsed with the residual feeling of each individual finger which had left an imprint on both Jisung’s body and his mind. Though he felt it, the pain from his back was considerably less prominent compared to the other sources despite how the tree pressed into the footprint shaped bruise. Overall- Han Jisung felt like absolute shit.

**Hearing ** followed once Jisung had enough consciousness to remember  _ exactly  _ how his condition had worsened.

"Woojin! You can't do that!” A sickening, snapping sound. “We're on  _ school grounds _ !! You'll get arrest-  _ STOP! _ " The pitch of Chan's voice was raising with every syllable; his frantic desperation fueling the words. Jeongin, who should've been with them-  _ stopping Woojin- _ was silent. Sounds of grappling, thuds, stomping, and very distinct, smaller cracks filled the once peaceful morning. 

Jisung curled further into himself. Woojin said nothing in response to Chan; but, Jisung had a feeling that he was too lost to understand his actions. Jisung didn't want to know what was going on. Didn't want to see the eldest lost in his own rage. Did want to see what was breaking.  _ How  _ something was breaking.

_ It's because of me. It's all because of me _ . It sounded awful. Both Chan’s (now) screams and the body of his attacker which was definitely contorting into inhumanly shapes. If Jisung looked up and saw the scene- no doubt it would consume his nightmares for the rest of his life.

**Taste ** came last. The squelching and cracking sounds filling his ears triggered Jisung’s stomach into action. The metallic taste of blood mixed awfully with the residue of breakfast and Jisung lost it. He pulled his hands away at the last moment, managing to turn and vomit somewhere that wasn’t straight down his uniform. Anything could possibly be in his stomach left, without reservation.

And then everything was gone.

At least for a few moments.

When Jisung came to, he was leaning towards the side opposite of where the contents of his stomach lie. Cushioned against a soft body, it was the most comfortable that Jisung had been all day. His breath caught for a moment at the sight of foriegn arms encircling him- keeping his body upright- but he immediately relaxed upon seeing Jeongin's forced smile.

"Hyung...."

Jisung mustered up the best smile he could in return, which admittedly wasn't much at all. But still- he tried. 

The sounds around them had reduced to only harsh panting and grunting. Chan was standing behind Woojin, looking completely drained with his arms locked tightly around the eldest's abdomen. Both of them were pouring sweat. The overwhelming fury was blatant on Woojin’s features, his fists constantly clenching and releasing at his sides. Jisung wouldn't have recognized him if Woojin didn't have the blonde wrapped around him.

The most shocking sight, however, was the body on the ground. It was crumpled: bent in directions that shouldn't have been possible. Dirt and grass covered the entire uniform; accompanied by bright red patches of blood. The body seemed more like a movie prop than an actual person- despite the groans and fractured breathing coming from it.

"Hyung-" Jeongin tried once again to catch Jisung's attention; a task that was nearly possible once the boy caught sight of his aggressor's hands. The fingers...  _ what the fuck.. _ If Jisung had anything left in his stomach- it would have been gone. As it was, he dry heaved fruitlessly into Jeongin’s hold; the younger simply ran a light hand up and down Jisung's back.

The youngest's voice was unforgivably cold in his ear: "he deserved it. They all did."

Jisung didn't know how to respond. So he didn’t.

Woojin made another attempt to break free of Chan's grip- violently shaking the blonde around as if he'd forgotten who exactly was attached to him.

Chan didn't let go. Even as his feet left the ground and he swung in circles. 

Before he could even consider his idiocy, Jisung was scrambling to his feet- injuries forgotten. Thankfully, Woojin was less than three stumbly steps away because Jisung's ankle was  _ definitely _ not ready to support the weight of his body yet.

Racing forward to place himself in front of the eldest, Jisung held his arms out. He probably looked like a mess- with sweat and vomit running down his face- but that was all that it took for Woojin to snap out of whatever trance he had been. 

As if it had been staged, Woojin reached out to Jisung just as he started to wobble and pulled the boy into his chest with fervent strength. The eldest's head landed heavily onto Jisung's shoulder as he thoroughly enveloped the shorter into a hug. Normally, it would've felt overwhelming to be wrapped up so tightly- and somewhat aggressively?- but at the moment, it was obvious what needed to occur. And it wasn’t about Jisung’s comfort.

Strained breathes went down Jisung's back as Woojin gradually calmed down. Chan was still clinging around the eldest- his hands moving from a strained grip to tightly grasping the ends of Jisung’s jacket.

Scrambling footsteps behind Jisung made him press further into the hug, but considering that neither of the elder's minded, Jisung didn't either. Still, arms tightened around him in response to his actions; and, a new body was added in to the side. The youngest merely threw himself loosely around the huddle and leaned his head into Woojin's shoulder.

It took some time for Woojin to fully relax and come back. Though, when he did- it was obvious.

Each layer of the hug detached slowly, the respective people backing up but not leaving their small area.

Woojin was staring at the ground. Drained. Chan had a hand on the back of the eldest's neck, slowly massaging away the remaining tension, a distant look in his eyes as he stared holes into the sky. The only one really willing to move, Jeongin had busied himself with picking up around the tree.

Soon enough, Jisung's crutches were balanced on his backpack by his feet, though he made no move to grab them. Honestly- it was amazing that he was still upright without external support. So much felt wrong in his body that it was quickly becoming numb. 

"Uh- I think... we should go back..." The small voice that spoke first belonged to the maknae. He was anxiously bouncing, looking from person to person. A small spark of hope in Jeongin’s eyes lit as he met Jisung's gaze- just  _ begging _ one of the elders to move or respond or… at least  _ do something _ .

Chan moved first- moving around Woojin with a neutral expression. Wordlessly, he scooped up Jisung's backpack and crutches, waving his hand towards Jeongin.

The two youngest shared a look of shock- what was Chan thinking? Everyone at the cafe knew by now just how bad Jisung’s injuries had gotten and  _ surely  _ witnessing the scene earlier, Chan didn't expect Jisung to  _ walk _ back? But realization quickly dawned on Jeongin's face as he smiled in relief before taking off towards the blonde with  _ far _ too much spring in his step.

Jisung was about to voice his concerns as he took an overly insecure step towards the retreating pair- but there was something in his path. Woojin. Bent down on his knees in front of Jisung, he was waiting.

With a voice that was far too uncertain to be his own, Jisung fumbled for words, "I-  _ uh-  _ you don't... I can-"

Without changing his position, Woojin gestured for Jisung to hurry up. A heavy, defeated sigh left Jisung as he resigned himself to fate. The morning had already gone so weirdly- who was he to deny someone who had just saved his life? 

Jisung cautiously laid himself across Woojin's back- wary of putting too much of his weight down too quickly. The elder stood to meet him halfway, strategically placing his hands under Jisung's legs as to avoid as many injuries as possible.

Woojin’s long strides allowed them to meet up with Chan and Jeongin in no time; the latter pair taking the lead back towards the cafe.

The lull of the walk and the warmth surrounding him- from both Woojin and the Sun- led Jisung into a light sleep. In the distance he could hear passing cars and a soft, constant mumble coming from Jeongin- but he thought nothing of it. He was safe, now.

It was obvious when they had made it to the cafe, the sounds of the town dying away, but Jisung merely nuzzled his head further into Woojin's neck, not wanting to see any disapproving looks from possible customers or the other cafe boys. Jisung was  _ always  _ causing them trouble and it was getting to the point where  _ he  _ didn't even want to deal with himself anymore. Maybe he deserved it all.

"Jisung." 

At the rumble of Woojin's voice- something he felt more than heard- Jisung cracked an eye open. They were in the bathroom. The lights were off but a few candles had been placed along the back of the counter, which illuminated the room with a welcoming, warm light.

"Hmm?"

"Do you want help?" 

They both knew what Woojin was referring to. Showering, cleaning, washing away the filthy prints. Becoming himself again, rather than some nameless victim. But Woojin had already saved him once today- saved him more than enough for an entire lifetime. He could do this. Jisung could do it  _ himself _ .

"No, it'll be okay. Thank you, though."  _ It _ will. Not him, but  _ it _ . 

Rather than respond, Woojin merely let the boy down onto the floor and slowly walked out, not even bothering to look back and make sure the younger was still standing. 

_ Maybe that's his charm _ . But, maybe, Woojin couldn't stand to look at the boy that seemed to drag trouble around with him everywhere he goes. And that was something that Jisung couldn't fault him for. 

Because he was the same.

  
  


Jisung didn't even try to shower. Standing straight hurt. Moving hurt. He was in no mood to balance on one foot to avoid the excruciating pain of water on all hits cuts (which seemed to keep growing in number). Thus, Jisung settled for a sponge bath: stripping and washing only the most important areas. However, the boy excluded his ankle since that seemed to be completely under Woojin's jurisdiction as of late.

Leaning heavily against the counter, Jisung was on his  _ third _ hair washing break. The conditioner was settling into his hair and his entire body was aching with the hunched position.

Really, Jisung should've expected the knocks to come sooner. To his right, the three successive sounds resounded through the room, not even startling Jisung due to his overwhelming exhaustion.  _ It's probably not even noon- how am I so tired. Why can't this week just end... _

"Sungie?"

Rather than speak and risk the product coming into his mouth, Jisung fumbled around until he found the door handle and pulled it open. He was in boxers and a t-shirt, so it wasn't like he'd scar any potential onlookers.

The sound of Chan slipping through the doorway and quietly closing the door made Jisung overly aware of his surroundings.

"Would you let me help you?" Unsurprisingly, Chan’s voice was soft, as if he were speaking to a frightened animal. The elder was hovering to his left, close enough that Jisung could feel the steady warmth radiating from his body.

A small, affirmative hum came from Jisung, whose face was contorted due to a small trail of water falling directly towards his left eye. He was in no mood to be conscious for longer than necessary; maybe he could nap on the floor next to Minho? Even if he slept on the hard floor- or one of the chairs, sans a pillow- anything would be better than the cold, hard, cot he had back at the shack. Jisung had already been helped so much today- what was one more thing that he owed the boys?

Upon receiving permission, Chan immediately grabbed a small, dry washcloth and patted dry Jisung's arms, neck, and face. The conditioner was worked out of the younger's hair with ease of professional fingers. 

Neither said anything as Jisung was guided to the toilet, where Chan towel dried the hair with slow, delicate strokes. Part of Jisung was thankful for the additional care, because any remnants of painkillers were  _ definitely  _ out of his system and the concussion(s?) that he had sustained had come to attack in full force now that he was completely out of adrenaline.

When Chan deemed his head dry enough, he rehung the towel and ran his hands through Jisung's hair- delicately rearranging it. At that, Jisung hummed happily- the attention and care soothing and subduing (at least) his emotional pain. 

Chan giggled as he put his hands under Jisung's armpits and hauled him upwards. They stayed that way for a few longer- than- necessary seconds. The younger was focusing on  _ staying _ upright, while Chan seemed to be testing Jisung's ability to function at the most basic level.

A few  _ more  _ moments passed- the boys just looking at each other- before Chan spoke: "we've got everything set up in the conference room. I think you'll enjoy it.” He paused so Jisung could digest the information. “And don't worry- the cafe is going to be closed for at least the next couple days. We all need a break." Jisung nodded, making small motions to confirm that he was hearing  _ and _ processing everything that was being said. 

_ But... what does he mean by... 'everything' ...? _

With Jisung's night routine completed despite it being midday; the drained boy allowed Chan to sling an arm across his shoulders so that they could hobble into the conference room. 

The sight took away Jisung's breath.

The table had been pushed against the window wall- chairs stacked neatly on top. The floor of the room was covered with numerous, multi-colored blankets and futon pads- making the entire room a child's paradise. Various bowls of snacks were littered around with accompanying liters of liquids All of the curtains were drawn shut; fairy lights lit the room up perfectly- allowing Jisung to see that he and Chan were  _ definitely _ the last to arrive.

The boys were perfectly lined up, much like sardines in a can, despite the limbs that were haphazardly thrown across each other.

There was a space closest to the door which was empty, but looking at the other empty space- Jisung had a strong inkling that it wasn't  _ his _ designated spot. Though, it was weird for them to leave him a spot  _ at all.  _ Just the fact that there were indeed  _ two  _ blatantly empty slots touched his heart in ways Jisung had never expected.

A small walkway next to the long, empty wall at everyone's feet allowed for Chan to carefully guide a very tired Jisung to the opposite side of the room- right between Minho (who was nearly plastered against the adjoining wall, swaddled in a cocoon of familiar black and red blankets) and a very concerned Felix. 

Along the way they passed: Woojin (who was watching them with a more than slightly attentive gaze); Hyunjin (who was unabashedly latched onto Woojin's right side, scrolling through his phone with a singular cracked eye); Jeongin (who was clearly pouting at the lack of attention he was receiving- arms crossed, staring at the ceiling with a major frown); Seungmin (who was mirroring Hyunjin- but on a  _ very  _ asleep Changbin's left side); and lastly, Felix (who scrambled up as the boys neared, so that he could help Jisung slowly descend onto an awaiting stack of pillows.

Going from a vertical to horizontal position proved to be just as painful as Jisung had expected it would be- but, with Chan's constant whispers of reassurance and Felix's promises of the awaiting food, Jisung made it. Eventually.

A quick glance at Minho made his heart jump. Jisung tore his gaze away just as quickly as it had landed.

Eager to fulfill his earlier promises, Felix reached over Changbin and Seungmin- nearly flattening them under his weight- and retrieved two bowls of mixed snacks and a liter of clear fluid-  _ water?- _ for Jisung. He didn't say anything after that- just sat the snacks between them with a pointed look and flipped onto his stomach to scroll through a phone. 

A stab of guilt ran through Jisung. He still had Felix's phone. And given that Jisung had nowhere to go for the next few days- he should really give it back. But, given that Felix was happily giggling away at some random picture he'd found- the return could probably wait. At least until tomorrow.

Jisung let the peaceful atmosphere of giggles, snores, and muffled conversations from the far end wash over him.

It shook him to the core: the amount of luck he must've had... to experience something so precious.  _ Maybe it’s karma coming back? _ Although Jisung wasn't actively participating, just being able to witness something so sacred... 

A week ago Jisung would've laughed at someone who told him  _ this  _ was going to be his life. But.. he was here. 

Here-  _ now. _

_ He _ was able to witness the rambunctious cheers minutes later in response to Chan’s jubilant cry of "movie time!"

For the first time: Jisung was living happily. 

Despite all odds.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again!  
Vacation was wonderful~ surprisingly it exactly fit my expectations and I'm glad it went well.  
But, now I'm back and I can finish this monster! We're getting closer!  
°˖✧◝(⁰▿⁰)◜✧˖°


	27. NXT 2 U

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jisung was halfway through arranging his hair into a suitable fashion- don't want them to think worse of me than they probably already do- when he heard in quick succession: a heavy thud, a cat screeching hysterically, and Changbin yell:
> 
> "MINHO!!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next set of partners to be revealed are Changbin's!  
Primary: Felix  
Secondary: Minho  
Platonic: Seungmin  
°˖✧◝(⁰▿⁰)◜✧˖°

It would have been convenient for Jisung to be able to ignore his limp and valiantly race from the bathroom to learn what was going on and resolve the issue. But, of course- life wasn’t that kind to him. The hallway seemed impossibly longer, the cafe too far away, and the following sounds frighteningly loud.

_ What about Minho-hyung? What about him? What was that?? Why the fuck is Hyunjin yelling... I can't even tell what he's saying he's so loud... _

Doing his best not to waste even a second, Jisung used the wall to hurtle himself towards the scene. Each of Hyunjin's shrieks sent jagged spikes of horror through Jisung’s heart. As he got closer, they became deafening and Changbin's low voice rounded out the cacophony. The cat that had been with them was anxiously pacing around the trio: whining, crying, and pawing at the body.

Changbin and Hyunjin were on the ground by the entryway, closely hunched over a third body whose proportions matched Minho's; even though everything in Jisung's being was begging for it not to be. Vision shaky and breathing becoming increasingly difficult, Jisung knew something was wrong. Really wrong.

Like blood soaking into the boys' pants and across the floor wrong.

Hyunjin's agitated crying hadn't died down but the pitch had dropped so they were slightly more tolerable. He was like a baby- so emotional that he couldn’t process his emotions through any other way.

"Wha- What? What _ happened?! _ Minho- hyung!! This wasn- t supp- posed to happen! What do we _ do?! _ What are we supposed to-? _ HYUNGGG!! _" As Hyunjin's panic rose once again, he pulled the body closer to him- crushing it in his grip. The sight seemed to be affecting Hyunjin the most; the unforgettable image of his hyung bleeding and possibly even dying was far too much for the tall boy to handle.

Hands harshly gripping the counter, Hyunjin seemed to have harnessed all of Jisung's energy. He couldn't move. breathe. or blink. Could barely _ think _ past processing just how much he didn't want to know who was being cradled so protectively. But he knew. And it felt awful- that he'd rather a random stranger show up on their doorstep nearly dead. Anyone but Minho. _ Anyone. _

It wasn't until Changbin shoved Hyunjin away- ripping Minho from the boy- that Jisung could truly comprehend what was occurring. That he wasn’t stuck in some sick nightmare.

_ “Don't touch him!" _

Hyunjin’s voice was strained- panicked. The high-pitched crack in the first word sent a chill through Jisung. At first- Jisung thought he was kidding, acting out, because the obnoxious incredulity with which Hyunjin was acting was _ way _over the top. Adding nothing to the situation, helping no one, and merely taking precious time away from Minho getting treated.

"Bro, what the _ fuck!? _ What do you thin-" Hyunjin's gestures were wild- his arms and legs flailing around. He was yelling all sorts of profanities, rambling to the cold air. The sight was shockingly similar to a child throwing a tantrum. 

It stunned Jisung. The boy who was normally so composed: had lost complete control. _ Does he even know what he’s saying right now? Or is he just on autopilot? _The boy seemed to have been completely possessed by one emotion- fear.

With a single, heavy glare from Changbin, the older giving Hyunjin his complete attention, the room went completely silent.

_ Something's… not right. _

After a few painful seconds, it was Changbin's turn to speak. And when he did, the tone was chilling; deep and serious with absolutely no room for argument: "Hyunjin. Get the supplies."

"What?! You can't expect me to just lea-"

At the attempted beginnings of an argument, Changbin turned away- uninterested. Instead, he focused on sliding behind and under Minho- carefully resting the limp body against his front. 

Changbin pulled Minho as close to his chest as he possibly could; bending down to whisper into the elder's ear. It received no reaction. 

Forehead rested on Minho’s shoulder, Changbin turned his head slightly to crook an eyebrow at Hyunjin’s unmoving stature.

"Go." 

The finality was undeniable. The rasp and simplicity of the order instigated Hyunjin into motion. Though the boy was wobbly on his feet- nearly toppling over as he stood- Hyunjin was quick to race off past Jisung. It was obvious that tears were pouring down his face.

Hyunjin caught his gaze. And freaked out more than he had since Minho had initially entered the premise. Turning around to stalk furiously up to Jisung, the taller boy’s gaze was practically feral. Unrecognizable. And sickening. 

Jisung was already weak and injured, if Hyunjin tried anythi-

"_ You-!! _" As the tall boy neared, Jisung felt his throat close. The overbearing presence was in his face; intimidating and hostile. Jisung wanted nothing more than to shrink away- to bring his hands up and cower. But, he just clenched his hands impossibly tighter and stared, wide-eyed, at the imposing male in front of him. 

Hyunjin wouldn’t _ actually _ hurt him, no matter how mad he was, would he? They weren’t _ that _ level of unfamiliar with each other, right? Even if they didn’t necessarily get along well, it wasn’t like that… Hell- they’d even eaten _ breakfast _together before.

Spit was flying; long limbs slamming around uncaringly; stools scattering and cups shattering. Hyunjin was _ still _yelling at him; but, Jisung couldn't register any of the sounds. His eyes were still glued to the bleeding body on the ground. All of Jisung’s senses were muted as he took in the horror scene that was Minho.

The obviously boy didn't appreciate being ignored and after a few, additional rambunctious sentences: Hyunjin gripped Jisung's shoulders, shaking him to gain attention. The momentum nearly sent Jisung falling over- his lame foot unable to support him.

A blinding strike of pain, running up from his ankle, caused Jisung to return the frantic boy’s grip- desperate to find any purchase he could to save himself.

Then the arms left his body. Ripped away like Jisung was made of fire and the taller was a piece of paper. Forcefully yanked himself away. Hyunjin screamed. 

"Don't touch me!!!"

Jisung steadied himself and turned to Hyunjin. _ What's going on? _ It wasn't like Hyunjin had never touched him before. Hell, _ he'd _ just grabbed _ Jisung _ . And now: he was rejecting all contact- running his hands over his arms and chewing his lips anxiously. Like Minho being critically injured wasn't enough- there was something _ seriously _wrong with Hyunjin. 

Suddenly, Hyunjin raced past Jisung. The expression he made as he tore himself away from the situation was one that Jisung would never forget: the red eyes, flushed cheeks, swollen lips, tears streaked downwards, hair stuck out in randomly. But what stood out the most- even past the bloody clothes- was the blown pupils. 

The blood smears across the floors and down Hyunjin's front were less frightening than the unadulterated horror on Hyunjin's face. Like he was seeing something no one else could. Trapped in his own, personal horrific fantasy. In less than a minute, Hyunjin had turned into a complete mess.

The boy who typically held so much composure and prided himself on staying on top of every situation.... was a mess. 

It was scary.

By the time that Jisung had psyched himself up enough to move- Hyunjin was racing back to the entryway, a large cardboard box in his arms. Despite his aggressive reentry, the box landed lightly at Changbin's side and the boy grunted shortly in acknowledgement. 

Jisung froze. What could he possibly do in this kind of situation?

Hyunjin fumbled around with the top of the box, his hands shaking as he tried to open it. With every failed attempt, his whines grew louder and his anxiety visibly increased. After the fourth failed attempt, Changbin turned and placed a hand over Hyunjin's.

Immediately, the boy froze and stared at the older. An instant replay of Hyunjin shaking Jisung off seconds earlier flashed through Jisung’s mind. Once again, the cafe was silent.

Hyunjin stared- mouth open, shoulders rising and falling- as he attempted to focus on whatever Changbin was going to do or say.

Without looking, Minho was shifted away from Hyunjin and Changbin curled his hand around the younger's, larger, trembling ones. Hyunjin reciprocated the action, completely forgetting about the box. The difference between the aggression he had held earlier and the sorrowful pout of the present were contrasting enough to give Jisung whiplash.

"Go home and cool off." 

The cat- which Jisung had completely forgotten about- hopped onto the box and plopped onto the boys conjoined hands. It let out a long, low merow as if agreeing with Changbin.

Hyunjin looked like he wanted to interrupt and argue, beg until the order was changed, but Changbin calmly shook his head and continued. 

It had barely been noticeable before, but the shaking got worse as Hyunjin tried to calm himself and understand the situation. As if responding to the high emotions, Minho spasmed in Changbin's grasp. The smaller let out a panicked shout as he struggled to contain the jelly-like limbs. Jisung's breath caught as Minho's legs jerked through the air for a few bone-chilling seconds before flopping back to the ground, motionless. 

Changbin's unwavering attention was refocused onto Minho again. He pressed his forehead into the vibrating shoulder, willing the body to rest. By the flexing of his arms, it was obvious the elder was struggling to maintain control. Several tense moments later, Changbin spoke without raising his head:

"Hyunjin. You're not helping anyone like this and you'll injure him more if you try to help me. It's time for you to go home. Call Seungmin if you have to. But- you need to leave." His voice had grown soft- tired. There was a hint of confidence underneath every syllable that made even Jisung, who the words weren't even directed at, feel their strength. Consoling and reassuring, the words wrapped around Hyunjin. 

The drastic change in environment seemed to strike a chord with Hyunjin and the boy pulled away slowly; as if he was controlled by marionette strings, suddenly emotionless. Jisung could only watch, taking in all the details as Hyunjin lightly patted the cat's head, squeezed Changbin's shoulder, and mechanically walked out of the door without even a glance at Jisung. 

Legs wobbly, Hyunjin’s zigzagging path made for considerable amounts of concern. _ Will he even be able to make it to the end of the street? _ Jisung had no idea how far away Hyunjin lived; but for the boy's sake- he hoped it was close.

With Hyunjin gone, the orange cat hopped down from the box and began circling the body again. Changbin was unmoving around Minho, arms wrapped around the elder's shoulders- knuckles white.

A sharp yeowl cut through the air, forcing the attention onto the crying cat. It's nose was poking into Minho's side- fur tinged red- where the majority of the blood was leaking from.

Jisung suddenly hated the shredded, muddy white t-shirt, that was blocking his view of the area. Changbin didn't respond to the feline. Annoyed at the lack of reaction, Jisung finally found it in him to stumble over. Uncaring that he was still in his pajamas, Jisung fell to the floor, knees sliding in the gathered pool of blood.

Changbin didn't seem surprised at the new presence; and didn't push him away like he had Hyunjin, either.

The cat nosed at the area and whined. Unexpected, the agonized sound triggered both boys into motion. Without even looking at each other, they simultaneously fell into different tasks.

Jisung reached around the cat, forcefully ignoring the pain in his leg, to pull Minho's shirt away- just high enough to see the source of the bleeding.

It made him nauseous. The cut looked like something off a television show: a clean line, about an inch long, was wide open and letting blood flow freely. Jisung immediately regretted pulling the shirt up- the motion had caused any formed clots to be pulled away. But. _ It was necessary for treatment _.

Oddly enough- Jisung felt a cold calm. Maybe, it was that he was _ so _ scared, _ so _sickeningly frightened that his fight or flight instincts had shut down. Or maybe, his will to fix whatever was wrong and make Minho alright again took over.

A black mass was thrust into Jisung's hands. 

"Put pressure there." Automatically, Jisung pressed the cloth to the wound. 

Satisfied with Jisung’s treatment, the cat resumed wandering, stopping periodically to sniff and lick at various places.

Transfixed on the animal’s goings, Jisung vaguely realized how odd the situation was: it was late at night- nearly midnight- and the cafe owner had stumbled through the door, bloody and muddy, in a white undershirt and... boxers?

_ What in the world...? _ He and Jisung had almost switched places. For the first time, _ Jisung _ was the one wearing the pants. And he _ hated _it. 

The difference starkly reminded him of his first night in the cafe. One of them had been freshly washed, fully-clothed, and fresh smelling. The other? Filthy. Wreaking of shame. And incredibly lucky if he was able to scrounge up enough change for a bag of chips...

It was horrifying. If Jisung could switch positions- he would. In a heartbeat. Without a second thought. Minho didn't deserve this. Whatever had happened.. selfless, cake baking, soap-sharing, Minho did not deserve _ any _of it.

A sharp, alcoholic smell dragged Jisung back to reality. 

Changbin had already a bandage around Minho's neck; both arms were cleansed and wrapped, as well. The way that Changbin worked together with the cat was mesmerizing. Somehow, it made Jisung feel useless- he was merely holding a cloth down. But, he had a feeling if he were to attempt to help- he would only get in the way.

A few more minutes of silent cleaning passed before Jisung got the scare of his life.

Worse than when he had gotten ganged up on. 

Worse than when the police man had chased him through the alleyways. 

Minho jerked- his body arching against Jisung’s hand. With surprising strength, the elder's arms jerked up to his neck- clawing something away from his body. His legs kicked in the air and the cat was thrown away; nearly catapulted into one of the nearby tables. A loud, shrill whine broke free from Minho. His face contorted, displaying the immense pain of someone getting tortured. Horrible memories. Reliving the unwanted past.

Jisung acted before Changbin. Throwing his body onto the elder, Jisung hooked a leg over both of Minho’s and pressed their chests together. He scrambled to find purchase on the straining arms; but eventually was able to overpower the elder. Not very much- but enough to interlock their fingers and force the elder to stop lashing new cuts down his own neck. Minho thrashed, trying to throw Jisung off of him. The younger stayed unmoving- frozen. The defiant, terrified cries were deafening in Jisung's ears. Answering without thinking, his own whines added to the mix. Cringing into Minho's chest, Jisung prayed for the episode to end quickly.

Thoughts raced through Jisung's mind; but, there wasn’t enough energy to focus on any singular one. His only focus was weighing Minho's body down- to stop the elder from harming himself and those around him. 

A disgustingly warm liquid seeped into Jisung’s skin- the cut reopened- but he didn't move. Even when Minho found another burst of strength and began absolutely _ wailing _\- Jisung stayed put. 

Never before had his heart been _ so _ broken. Never had he wanted to _ actually _swaddle someone and protect them from everything in the world.

There was a first for everything.

It felt like an eternity before Minho drooped- body completely relaxed. Cries faded into soft whimpers, Jisung could finally hear Changbin above him. The boy was close, most likely speaking directly to Minho. Low murmurs flowed around them, streaming from Changbin as the boy did his best to calm Minho. Or maybe, himself. 

After a few moments of listening to the eldest’s heart rate slow- Jisung allowed himself to let out a long breath. Entirely relieved that the body under him seemed to be in less pain.

Slowly, Jisung pulled himself up and away. Vaguely, it registered that Minho hadn't been warm- rather, he was freezing and sweating at the same time.

He looked over to find: Changbin holding the sides of Minho's head in his hands, foreheads pressed tightly together; and, an orange ball of fur pressed against Changbin's opposite side, ears tucked down in fright. 

Taking account of himself- Jisung looked down to find his shirt soaked in the areas which had been pressed against Minho. Some of it was tinted red; but, there was definitely a clear liquid spreading around, too. It wasn't a "wring your shirt out and it’ll dry in a few minutes" wet, more like a "oil stain that will never come out despite any chemical attempts to purge it" kind of wet. 

He pulled the fabric up to his nose on pure instinct, and cringed away immediately. Underneath the pungent, metallic smell of blood there was a misplaced, earthy-minty scent. _ Maybe he got into trouble trying to pick mint for his mint-chocolate obsession? _ The idea was ridiculous- but Minho wasn't exactly the most normal person, either.

"What?" Changbin was looking directly at him, a singular eyebrow raised in curiosity.

"I- uh.." Clearing his throat, Jisung tried to stop his voice from shaking. "He smells weird. Normally... it’s like cinnamon.. or something... but now it's like ...minty?” His voice died off in the end, as Jisung found his own observations embarrassingly attentive. Scratching his neck, the boy struggled to cover up his awkwardness. “I don't know. Ignore me. Sorry." 

Changbin's face squished. A couple of thoughtful nose scrunches later and Changbin seemed to agree with Jisung. Nodding, he silently resumed cleaning and bandaging.

The cat didn't move to help, merely leaning into Changbin with a spacey, blank stare.

Jisung grabbed the black wad he had flung away and had just pressed it into Minho's side when Changbin broke the silence.

"Switch places with me." The gruff comment was, as usual, a demand and not a suggestion.

Before he even thought about it, Jisung opened his mouth: "what?"

Changbin stopped cleaning and looked at the younger boy. Huffing, he rolled his eyes dramatically and gestured at the spot he was sitting. “Sit here. I have to go grab some things and if he freaks out again: you’ll have to hold him down. Again. Now- move."

Since Changbin seemed to know what he was doing- Jisung mindlessly trust his orders. Without further questions, he quickly scooted over to take Changbin's position around Minho's torso.

The cat chirped as the new body settled in. Once Jisung had stilled, bent over Minho to keep the cloth pressed into the steadily flowing cut, the cat leaned into his hip. The warm pressure was reassuring- grounding, even. 

Subtle whimpering disrupted Minho's light breathing. It hurt Jisung to know that the boy was still in pain- be it physical or mental. 

Under his soft pressure, the body began vibrating slightly. Nothing as drastic as before, but it was enough for Jisung to tense his entire body in preparation for the inbound waves of struggling. He pulled his legs in, doing his best to trap Minho's arms directly against his ribs. However, the struggles never came.

No wailing.

No whipping of floppy body parts.

Minho only whined; turning his head into Jisung's thigh. Given that Jisung was nearly bent in half- it’s not his fault he’s shorter!- with the effort to keep the cloth in place: Minho had basically trapped himself in a corner.

_ Oh _ . _ Wait. _ It finally clicked in his head as Minho pressed closer. The elder was in a ragged, torn t-shirt and _ boxers _ . For who knows how long. During a night in fall. With major blood loss. He must be _ freezing _.

It wasn't like Jisung could just run his hands over the elder's body- use friction to provide heat- there were far too many cuts littering every open space of every limb. He couldn’t get up and grab a blanket from the conference room- what if Minho spazzed out again? He felt helpless.

Thankfully, Changbin returned within moments; four towels and a small bucket of soapy water in his hands. The box was kicked away from Jisung's side, the bucket placed Minho's hip so they would both have equal access to it. Changbin draped a long towel over Minho's legs; one hand towel was given to Jisung; and Changbin took one for himself. Out of his back pocket, a small bottle of soap and alcohol wipes were pulled out.

"Let's get this nasty shit off of him so he can sleep. You take the upper half and I'll take the lower.” Gesturing with his head at the last cloth: “use the towel to keep him dry; he's freezing enough, already." So Changbin _ had _noticed. Of course he did.

Numbly, Jisung nodded and set to work. 

At some point, the cat had settled into Changbin's lap- curling up and nuzzling within the boy’s legs in no time. Jisung missed the warmth- but it only made him work faster. If _ he _ was cold- Minho must be on the verge of hypothermia.

The cut was left alone. Jisung did his best not to jostle the area as he cleaned. Changbin, unsurprisingly, noticed his reluctance.

"I'll deal with it in a minute. Leave it." 

The elder had already finished Minho's lower half, replacing the towel and tucking it in to secure it.

Jisung finished shortly after; it had taken him a while to get the dirty and oily mess out of the elder's hair- though, the self-satisfaction of restoring Minho's hair to its normal luster was _ definitely _ worth the effort. The last towel had been wrapped around Minho's wet hair, additionally serving as a cushion against the concrete flooring. Jisung's back was beginning to strain at the hunched position, but it was _ by far _ the least of his current issues.

Changbin reached over, nearly dumping the cat out of his lap, and dragged the box back to his side. After a couple stressful seconds of digging around, he triumphantly found whatever he'd been looking for.

And for the second time that night- Jisung felt his stomach drop and the nausea rise.

"_ What? _ What do you-?!" Jisung’s voice was too loud for the night. _ He can’t really think he can actually- _

"It has to be closed."

"You're not a fucking _ doctor?! _ What if he's bleeding internally? Shouldn't we call an ambulance? Or the police!? He was _ stabbed _!" The words were coming out fast, but that didn’t stop Changbin from catching every single one of them- his face hardening at the suggestions.

"No. _ Absolutely _ not." He'd never heard Changbin's tone more hostile. It was as though _ Jisung _ had been the one to stab Minho. It frightened Jisung and he didn't even know _ why _the Changbin was reacting so… weirdly.

The elder didn't look away from the tools as he ran them through a lighter. His gaze was hardened, concentrating on his task.

"But what if-" Jisung's voice cracked as his anxiety mindlessly tried to reason with Changbin's unwavering stubbornness. _ What if you hurt him? I won't forgive you. _ And he had a strong feeling that Changbin wouldn't be able to forgive himself, either.

"No." Changbin, interrupted, _ finally _ sparing a glare that chilled Jisung to the bone. 

And that was that. 

The younger dropped the topic and hoped- _ prayed _\- with his entire being that the pseudo-surgeon knew what he was doing. In a voice similar to the one he had used with Hyunjin earlier, Changbin sighed before talking in a hushed tone: 

“Trust me. Believe in me."

Changbin's hands were clenched around a needle and thread. It was obvious by the lack of color and blatant resignation on his face that _ Changbin _ didn't want to go through with it, either. _ So- why don’t we just go to the hospital? It doesn’t make any sense. _ But, someone had to close the wound- and soon. Or, Minho would pay the price.

"I do." 

The confession came out before Jisung could even decide his actual beliefs. It seemed like the right thing to say. How could you tell someone that was about to _sew a wound_ _closed _of someone you _both_ care about that you _don't _trust them? You don't. _Ever_.

As he had feared- the second Changbin poured alcohol over the wound- Minho began freaking out. Jisung held Minho’s upper body down with all the weight he could- eyes closed tightly as Changbin worked. The pained cries conjured various images of that flashed through Jisung’s mind. All of them ended with Minho getting stabbed. Jisung was reluctant to learn the true reason behind Minho’s violent reactions.

It made him want to cry just as loudly as the elder. Scream. Or maybe, more. Because Jisung could do nothing to soothe or stop it. If his words would actually soothe Minho- he would give them _ all _to him. At top speed. Until his throat was raw and he’d gone through every dictionary- in every language.

Changbin patted the alcohol dry, wiping away the excess with gentle hands.

After a few more horrifying moments: Minho settled down, wheezing into Jisung's leg. Thankfully? He stayed unconscious through the entire experience. Maybe- he wouldn’t remember the pain in the morning.

"You're have to hold him down better. I know you're injured too, but-"

Before Changbin could even finish, Jisung was sliding down into a position that loosely mirrored the one he’d been in earlier: an arm slid under Minho's neck, hand trapping his head into Jisung’s neck; leg thrown over both the elder’s to secure it to the ground; lastly, the arm closest to Changbin was pulled across and tucked into Jisung's armpit.

With a deep breath, Jisung pulled Minho's- too cold_ \- _ body tight and nodded.

Only a couple of seconds elapsed before Minho tensed and started screaming into Jisung's neck. It started. And the worst part was that the cries had begun to take form of some sort of language. It terrified Jisung to think that the elder might actually be awakening due to the intense pain.

Garbled nonsense poured across Jisung’s skin. 

For some reason, the absolute terror caused Jisung to reach of state of cathartic peace. Taking a page out of Changbin's book, Jisung spoke into Minho's head as he cradled it to him. His words were slow, voice relaxed:

"Shh, ssh. It'll be okay. He's almost done. You'll be alright. I know it hurts. He's almost done. You're okay. I’m here."

It was his own version of nonsense. One that he didn’t believe himself, but willed Minho to understand. Minho would be alright. He’d lost a lot of blood- but that loss would end once Changbin finished. Everything would be okay.

In less than a minute- it _ was _ over. 

Minho's crying died down into high-pitched whines, released with the air of each exhale. Slowly, Minho was coming down from the pain high.

Jisung just clung to the elder- eyes closed- as he waited for Changbin to finish whatever clinking and rearranging was going in the background. Minho's breath was running down Jisung’s neck, uncomfortably wet; though, it was merely a reminder that the eldest was still alive. Still breathing. And _ still _in his arms.

"He needs to be moved to the conference room. We're done here." The calm, cool dominance had returned to Changbin's voice.

Giving himself a few more deep breaths to appreciate that the worst was over, Jisung removed himself from the embrace. Half of his body was numb from the hard ground; standing up was going to be tricky.

"I'm going to carry him. Can you wipe up the blood? I'll deal with the towels later."

Jisung bobbed his head slowly, pulling the towels away from Minho's body.

Minho's shirt had been pulled over the wound; the thick bandage visible underneath the shirt. It didn't settle Jisung's stomach. Changbin stood and stretched, a long groan resounding as his back cracked an unsettling amount of times. 

Meeting Jisung's startled gaze, he pouted, "what? I'm old."

"You're barely older than me."

"Exactly. Old." Changbin huffed, shaking his head mockingly. "Now clean up while I drag this lump of muscle away." His words were harsh but the small grin gave away the boy's lighthearted mood.

It was insanely relieving, to be able to bond after the trauma they had both experienced. 

When Jisung limped into the conference room: he found Minho wrapped in the bedding- wheezing from earlier turned into small, airy snores.

By his watch, it was just past two in the morning. It was doubtful that Jisung would find sleep- sans nightmares- after that experience.

Changbin had notified him that he'd return in a few minutes after sorting out the bloody supplies. Thus, Jisung settled down into the near-silence by Minho's head and leaned against the wall with a heavy sigh.

Now, it was _ his _ turn to be cold- but there wasn't anything Jisung could do about it. The most important face was that _ Minho _was warm- and recovering- directly next to him. 

Before Jisung had consciously realized it, his hand had slipped into Minho's still damp-hair, threading through the strands with ease. It was calming- a feeling that he definitely needed after the high tensions of the early night.

Minho relaxed into the sensation, rolling his head against Jisung’s hand with a light sigh. The action pulled a small chuckle out of Jisung. At least they were both benefiting from his accidental actions.

In that position- hand tangled in Minho’s hair- Jisung fell into a light sleep.


	28. I See

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Buckle up: it's long.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next to be revealed: Felix!  
Primary: Changbin  
Platonic: Jisung, Jeongin
> 
> °˖✧◝(⁰▿⁰)◜✧˖°

Watching a movie with everyone was far less exciting than one would've expected. If anything- it was just an excuse for the boys to lay around and  _ on _ each other with little to no reservations.

It had struck Jisung oddly that  _ all _ of them were present. After all, it  _ was _ still a Thursday-  _ how did Hyunjin and Seungmin get out of school? Changbin and Felix probably also have classes, too, don’t they?  _ But, as soon as he had begun to voice the questions, Chan had waved them away with a mischievous: “sometimes we pull strings so we can all have some recovery time together. One day you’ll learn the ways, too~.”

The projector that had been set up on the conference table was humming quietly in the background; showing some happy, lighthearted drama on the wall at their feet. No one was really paying any attention to it- save for a pouty maknae. 

Since Jeongin couldn’t manage to get the attention of his partners- their obvious punishment for his dangerous actions earlier in the day- the boy ran a constant commentary to the mild amusement of everyone else in the room. Following his partners decision of temporary ostracism, Jeongin was ignored. But. There was  _ one _ person who couldn’t stand the prattling and just wanted to enjoy some silence.

The youngest was just  _ asking  _ to be smothered after continuing past the first  _ and  _ second warnings.

Like a sausage in all its glory, Felix steamrolled over Changbin and Seungmin’s combined lump until he was directly on top of Jeongin. If the boy wanted attention- he was  _ definitely  _ going to get it now. 

Felix flattened himself over Jeongin’s slightly taller form and threw his blanket over their bodies with a giggle utter joy. Wrapped in a warm cocoon, the youngest’s commentary died out instantly. Soon enough, two harmonious sets of laughter and squeals replaced the endless commentary.

It didn't take long for the two to capture everyone’s attention.

"Yah, can't you do that some other time?" Seungmin's grumpy complaint was only harsh in sound- he wasn’t even trying to hide the very obvious grin he sported against Changbin’s chest.

On the pair’s other side: Hyunjin hadn't even bothered to move an inch from Woojin's loose embrace: "if you kick me- I'm ending you both."

The rest of the room looked on, apprehensive. The strain between the trio was obviously going to be short-lived- Seungmin had already cracked and Hyunjin would, no doubt, follow shortly. Still, the underlying tension was affecting everyone in the vicinity; so it needed to be talked out. Soon.

A few more flails and bursts of high-pitched laughter, and the offending blanket was sharply yanked away by a playfully frustrated Seungmin. 

Felix, from where he was straddling Jeongin's back, had been ruthlessly tickling the youngest. And, judging by the smirk on his face, he was  _ undoubtedly  _ receiving the reactions he wanted. The tenacity with which Seungmin joined the attack was to be expected- he’d been suppressing the urge to mess with Jeongin for far too long.

A low groan from behind effortlessly captured every single one of Jisung’s sense and set his mind on high alert. It wasn't much more than a soft, deep rumble; but it had Jisung whipping around to find Minho weakly struggling against his blankets.

The sight pulled at Jisung’s heart strings. Everyone, even if some of them were pettily arguing, was able to enjoy themselves and benefit from the calm serenity that had been set up. But Minho was  _ still  _ suffering alone: small drops of sweat were forming along his brow and there was an undeniable scrunch between his eyebrows. Not a single person- in a room filled with people!- was doing  _ anything  _ to make it better.

Choosing to ignore the playful banter of the younger boys, Jisung slowly sat up and spun around. His own back cried at the movement; however, it was easy to ignore. There were far more important things to be concerned about.

With a small groan of his own, Jisung reached over and shimmied the comforter out from under the elder's body. Rather than loosen all the spots- Jisung only freed the closest side. With each additional section, Minho spread his limbs out further.

The quickly spreading flush was concerning Jisung the most.

_ Did he catch a cold? Is he fighting some sort of infection? Is it the stitches? Changbin  _ did  _ clean his neck, right?  _ From his memory, the cafe’s smaller medical kits didn’t contain any medicines. But!  _ Maybe Changbin-hyung’s box has something. _

Jisung brushed away the elder’s damp fringe and looked around in thought.  _ _ His disgruntled expression instantly caught Chan's attention. Wordlessly, the blonde nodded, stood, and left the room.

In his confusion-  _ what’s Chan-hyung doing?-  _ Jisung watched as Seungmin launched himself at the two energetic boys next to him, swiftly claiming a superior spot of his own. Completely squished between the boys, Felix whined. 

"Why don't you just get over yourselves and treat him right?? Instead of making others do it then getting angry when people give him the attention he needs? Did you even talk about what happened?? I don't understand either of you! You're  _ both- _ " Before he could rant more, Changbin reached into the pile and clamped a hand over Felix's mouth. The younger stopped talking, but didn’t miss the opportunity to let out a frustrated cry.

After a few moments of silent communication, the hand retracted. As if on cue, Felix’s body was dragged into Changbin’s arms with a surprising amount of strength. 

Seungmin yelped, one of the boys flailing feet clipping him in the stomach. His complaints quickly picked up, again, as he divided his time between torturing Jeongin and pouting at the cuddling couple.

Satisfied with the advancement, Changbin petted his captive’s hair as if to reward- or maybe apologize? for- his forced seconds of silence. Even though he was directly next to them, Jisung couldn't hear the soft words Changbin was whispering into the younger’s ear.

Minho moaned again. His head turned away from the sounds, nuzzling into a pillow that was so fluffy Jisung worried it might suffocate him. Without thinking, he reached out and patted down the fluff that could easily block the elder’s airways.  _ Just in case. _

Rather than pull away completely, Jisung’s hand settled onto Minho’s forehead. _ He definitely has a high fever.  _ The tenseness infecting the elder’s expression quickly smoothed out.

At the sudden change, Jisung laughed to himself, relieved that he hadn't made the situation worse: added to the heat or made the boy uncomfortable somehow.

A shadow loomed over the pair, scaring the shit out of Jisung. Face pushing into Minho’s blankets, like they’d get melt together and get transported away, Jisung whimpered

A hand settled onto his shoulder with a light warmth.

“Sungie. Hey, sorry. It’s just me.”

Instantly, Jisung relaxed. Though, it took him a few more- painful and embarrassingly long- seconds to straighten up. An apologetic smile was presented with a familiar bag of pills and liter of liquid.

“If you can give him a couple of these, it’ll help a lot. You should also take one for your ankle- it still hurts right?”

As if responding, the pain suddenly flared up and Jisung realized just  _ how much _ his body was aching. Rather than chance a shaky response, Jisung nodded hesitantly.

“Do you need help? Are you okay? Should I get Woo-”

Apparently nonverbal responses weren’t enough to quell Chan’s worries.

“I’ll be okay. Really. Thank you. And tell Woojin-hyung thank you, too.” At the sound of Jisung’s voice, Chan relaxed. The smile grew, genuine rather than forced.

Jisung hadn’t had the chance to properly thank the eldest for saving his life, but he had the rest of his life to do it- so there was no rush. As long as Minho recovered, that is. He was promised a place at the cafe before and- after everything that he’d been through, all the emotions that were tied to the place- Jisung intended to cherish the opportunity.

“Well, let me know if you need anything. Or, someone else. Whatever.. whoever? you’re comfortable with.. Yeah? Alright? Okay. Yeah.” Chan’s selfless rambling caused a small smile to grow on Jisung’s face.  _ Is he seriously... blushing?  _ It was kind of surprising- Chan seemed the type to openly help anyone, even strangers, at any time; so, why was he having such a difficult time offering now?

Jisung was left with a head full of questions as Chan, embarrassed, retreated back to his spot on the other side of the room. The way the blonde dramatically flopped onto Woojin- nearly knocking poor Hyunjin away in the process- made Jisung’s smile widen further as he turned back to Minho.

_ You’ve gathered quite the group, huh? _

Without thinking too much about the task, Jisung propped Minho’s head up onto a mound of extra pillows and blankets. With his fingers firmly squishing the elder’s cheeks, he dropped two small pills into the small opening and trickled water behind until Minho sputtered slightly and swallowed on reflex.

Patting Minho’s chest in a vain attempt to soothe away the coughs, Jisung quickly downed one of the painkillers for himself.  _ Yay~ now we can be numb together!  _ The grim thought was interrupted by a tap on his shoulder.

Turning around, Jisung was surprised to see Changbin’s arm retreating; though, it was Felix who was staring, concerned, from the other side of the boy’s body.

“You two okay? Do you want another blanket? I took the one that was over there-”

“Yeah he does that a lot. It’s something you have to get used t-.” The end of Changbin’s sentence was squandered by Felix dropping his head directly onto the middle of the shorter boy’s stomach.

“That’s not true! Don’t lie! You always kick them away!”

“Sure, love.”

Felix gave up the argument with a pout- aggressively nuzzling into the elder. Changbin groaned, weakly pushing at the ginger’s shoulders. The attack continued for a few seconds but ended as Felix crawled over and plopped his entire weight onto Changbin, effectively ending all physical and verbal arguments. Arms wrapping around Felix’s midriff, Changbin chuckled as he squeezed all the air out of the younger before settling for a tight embrace.

The movie had been playing less than half an hour and yet- there were three very similar lumps of people across the room. The only outlier was Chan- the blonde sitting, legs crossed, against the opposite wall, busied with the phone in his lap. 

Surprisingly, everyone seemed content. 

Seungmin- however- was the  _ one  _ person that Jisung didn’t envy. Jeongin was  _ completely  _ crushing him; the youngest going as far as to ensure that  _ only  _ the tips of his toes were touching the blankets.  _ I have no idea how Seungmin can breathe like that.  _ But, the boy was snoozing with a smile, nose buried into the neck of the boy on top of him.

Jisung’s attention was drawn away again, a snuffle coming from his right side. Minho’s nose was twitching, the entirety of his face contorting with an oncoming sneeze that never came.

Until- it  _ did. _

Minho scared the absolute shit out of everyone with a sneeze that echoed through the room. Several cuss words came from behind Jisung, his own adding into the mix as he rubbed the poor ankle he’d smashed on the ground in fright.

Deciding that it was probably best to get away from the blob of sickness, Jisung scooted away towards Changbin. As he laid down- on his stomach, the footprint still too painful to lay on his back- to listen to the movie: the feeling of content finally washed over Jisung.

All of the alternate presents flashed in front of him- sleeping at the park, freezing in his cot, constantly worrying about his next meal and frostbite, running from the hunters and police. Yet, there he was. Warm. Surrounded by people who care (at least a little??) about him. Healing.

Of course his thinking naturally went to his mom and there was a small string of guilt. What was she doing? Had she gone back home and found him gone? Did she think he was a bad son? That he had just left her alone and ran away? Truly- Jisung had full intentions to go back.. soon. Maybe he kept using his injuries as excuses- it was hard enough just to get from the cafe to school. Hell, getting to the bathroom was an adventure in itself. 

But maybe, he just wasn’t ready to face his ‘old life’.

The thought shocked him- his  _ old  _ life? It hadn’t even been  _ two weeks _ since he was invited into the lives of the cafe boys and all their insanities. And, if Minho didn’t recover- would he really have a place with them anymore?  _ Will the cafe even exist anymore?  _

It hurt to think that, without Minho, they would all magically start ignoring him. That he’d become a stranger with no friends again. That- every time he put on one of his new uniforms; or, used one of the pencils that Jeongin had insisted on buying him- he’d be reminded of what had once been.

It couldn’t happen. 

He wouldn’t let it happen.

A hand landed on Jisung’s back. Right over the bruise.

He screamed a scream that could only belong to an adolescent girl.

The hand retreated quickly.

Gasping into the blankets, Jisung turned towards his right. What could he  _ possibly have done _ to warrant such a strike?

The four closest to him were staring- wide-eyed and eyebrows high- directly at Jisung. Even Chan was observing the situation with a deep set frown.

_ Fuck me. _

They didn’t know.  _ How could they know? _ that he was just a mess of cuts and contusions... 

Only Minho was really aware of the extent of his injuries.

Jisung ducked back down, flattening himself against the floor as he tried to calm his breathing. Maybe it’d swallow him and he could escape.

“Jisung... Hey, I’m sorry. Are you okay?” The apology was tentative- testing the waters. Felix’s voice had jumped at least an octave from it’s normal deepness. 

_ Everyone’s asking if I’m okay today.  _

It was Jisung’s fault for hiding it, really, but did he really have to tell  _ every  _ person about  _ every  _ issue he had?

“Jisung?” This time it was Changbin.

Before anyone else could say his name- Jisung let out a pained whine. His hands wrapped around his head, blocking him from the curious onlookers. There was no point in ignoring the throbbing radiating across his back after the scene he’d made.

A hand laid over his which were tangled into his hair. Soft and warm. Grounding.

It took at least a minute for Jisung’s breathing to stabilize.

Figuring he owed them at least some sort of explanation for ruining their movie: “I- uh… my back’s a bit bruised. So-” Jisung’s words drifted off… he didn’t really know how to continue. If possible, he wanted to just leave at that. Acknowledge the reason but not explain the origin. But,  _ of course _ , the boys wouldn’t accept that.

“What do you mean?” Changbin.

“Does it hurt?” Jeongin.

“Do you want ice? Or a heating pad?” Felix’s voice was the quietest, as if he could scare Jisung away if he spoke too loud or suggested the wrong thing.

Jisung, unused to the caring nature of others, only shook his head in response. Wetness smeared across his face- he was crying…?  _ Why? _

Suddenly, the hand over his pulled away and Jisung was sure he did something wrong. Reacted the wrong way. The thought shocked him to his core. Were they all disgusted by how  **weak ** he was? How  **pathetic** ? That he was a  **crybaby ** and couldn’t handle a little pain? His head spun as he sniffled into the fluffy comforter.

His feet were cold.

Hell- Jisung’s  _ entire  _ body was doused in ice. Some part of his brain recognized this and pulled his limbs tight, tangling into a hunched ball.

Now tilted onto his side, Jisung was hidden. Facing Minho- who couldn’t see him since he was still unconscious- gave him a small sense of relief, a pinhole of light, amongst the vicious depression he was drowning under.

And then it was black.

All light was gone and Jisung’s heart jump started. His body stiffened- ready to run. Ankle be damned. He wasn’t prepared to deal with anything; thought Jisung could damn well  _ try _ . He could run from anything if he shut off his brain and just let his body reign. Jisung was good at that.

A small weight landed on his head- not holding him down, but patting in light motions. Jisung jolted, legs clashing together painfully.

“You’re okay~ Shhhh.. It'll be okay. I know it hurts. You're okay. I’m here."

Jisung  _ knew  _ that voice. Yearned to hear it, even. Hilariously, his lovely mind was cruel enough to resurrect memories of it in a time of weakness.

_ I’m hallucinating. Great. What will they think of me now. _ His own words were being thrown at him. Of course his brain couldn’t think of anything new, anything  _ better than _ what had already been said in the past. And the only two who had heard him say those words were Changbin and-

“MINHO-HYUNG.”

“HYUNG!!”

“ _ Hey! _ ”

“You shouldn’t be moving! Stop that!”

“Hyuuuuuuunggg!!”

Chan’s distant, soft chuckling intermingled with the happy shouts of surprise. As much as Jisung wanted to believe that Minho was actually awake- properly alive and recovering- his dark and his first instincts hid him further away from loudness.

To be able to conjure a fantasy that filled every sense, save for sight… his head was  _ truly  _ getting creative with his breakdowns. Maybe next time, Jisung would jump plains and get to witness the reactions around him with his own eyes. 

If he weren’t so on edge, Jisung would’ve laughed at the thought. 

A sick sort of humor.  _ It would be easier, wouldn’t it?  _ To observe and not feel the tumultuous emotions, pain, and thoughts storming inside of him. 

Despite the numerous shouts: the patting and gentle comforting had never stopped or been interrupted. The room had quietened, once again. Excited whispers still reached Jisungs ears; though, he couldn’t distinguish any of the words being said due to the roar in his own brain. Jisung registered the periodic, faint pressure and the fact that  _ things  _ were being said at his general direction; but he didn’t have the current ability to comprehend anything past the occasional “ _ Minho-hyung. _ ”

Jisung didn’t want to believe it. 

That’s a lie.

Jisung  _ wanted _ to believe it. That Minho was okay- moving, breathing, recovering, interacting, and sassing. But the pain of it just being an illusion? It was something he wouldn’t be able to recover from. 

Jisung knew he was weak. A crybaby. A boy that sought out attention like it was air and latched on to any source that would feed it to him. Shyly at first, then unreserved if given the chance to be. 

However. He was  _ also  _ someone who wanted to support those around them. Give them  _ his _ attention and care while having the knowledge that it was wanted and cherished whole-heartedly.

He had found that at the cafe. From the first time he’d stepped through the door and been offered the frozen tea to when he was injured and  _ always _ managed to be healed- in mind and body.

If his brain was pulling some sort of joke- it was leading itself to the edge of a cliff that it would  _ never  _ recover from if Jisung took the chance and wasn’t saved from the jagged rocks at the bottom.

After some nearby rustling the patting stopped, the darkness became blinding light, and the truth was revealed.

He took the leap without a second thought.

_ Minho-hyung. _

Right in front of him- less than half an arms length away- was Minho,  _ alive _ , in all his sick glory. 

“Hey.” It was soft. a little raspy. But  _ definitely  _ Minho’s voice. Jisung watched his lips form the words- but he couldn’t believe it.

He couldn’t even begin to form an answer. 

The sight of the elder was comically domestic: hair tousled; nose pink from sneezing; eyes droopy and slightly bloodshot; cheeks puffy from bloating. It was a combination that Jisung could never begin to create in his mind, no matter how desperate he was.

Minho reached out and rested his hand lightly on the top of Jisung’s head.

“Hello? Anyone in there?”

Their eyes met and the tears fell again- at full strength, this time.

“Ji?” The concern was overwhelming. 

The other voices in the room had become muted; all attention on the injured pair.

Jisung didn’t  _ want  _ to speak, but his body attempted a response, anyway: “Hmm?”

There was a small smirk on Minho’s face that didn’t belong next to the sheen of sweat and flushed cheeks.

“How about you stop crying, hmm? You’re stressing Felix out.”

The beginnings of a squeaky argument was muffled before it could even escape.

Biting his lip, Jisung nodded, tentatively agreeing. The _ last _ thing he wanted was to make other people suffer because of his weakness.

Felix must’ve escaped Changbin’s grasp because he defiantly yell-whispered: “cry all you want Ji! You’re my twin! I’ll share your sadness with you! Don’t let that old geezer tell you when to cry!”

At that, Jisung let out a watery giggle, wiping his eyes on the edge of his sleeve.

“The older, the wiser you brat. Maybe you should try listening to me once in your life.”

It was like Minho had never even collapsed in the cafe. Except the occasional cringing and sharp inhale that happened every few syllables. 

It may have slipped past the rest of the boys- but not Jisung. 

The bickering continued, but Jisung tuned his focus to the fingers rubbing slow circles through his hair. It was centering. Helping Jisung push away the last tendrils of whatever high emotions he’d just been overtaken by. It was the exact thing he needed. Reassurance without an overwhelming amount of questioning. The knowledge that he wasn’t alone _or _deemed incapable of handling his own state. 

After a few more moments of listening to the elder’s subtle, raspy breathing, Jisung shifted to face away from Minho.

He found Changbin wrestling with a rambunctious Felix: legs wrapped around the younger’s waist and arms around his neck in a triumphant choke hold.

Felix, despite his decreasing oxygen supply, was the first to notice the shift in Jisung’s attention. The carrot-top tapped twice on Changbin’s forearm, instantly earning his release as he pointed at Jisung with his other hand.

Changbin’s uncomfortably sharp gaze settled on the boy, an eyebrow raised in question.

“Hyung.” Changbin hummed. “Can you check on Minho-hyung’s stomach?” Before he could even add the reason(s) for his request- Changbin was shifting Felix out of his arms to crawl around Jisung.

Felix whined at being left alone, the cold being a feeling he greatly disliked. He looked at Jisung with hesitant hope, the smaller feeling his heart jump. It was obvious what Felix wanted- to replace Changbin’s missing presence with Jisung- but was he ready to let it happen?

Felix. His twin.  _ His soulmate.  _ The owner of the world’s strongest set of puppy eyes. 

It would be okay.

Rather than try to move- his back still didn’t feel great even if the painkillers were slowly beginning to take effect- Jisung lifted the edge of the blanket.

The way Felix’s eyes lit up, literally jumping at the opportunity, made it all worth it. Instead of throwing himself over Jisung like he’d done before to the other boys, he calmly slid under and mirrored Jisung’s position. Legs pressed together: the boys smiled at each other, tears forgotten.

Just being close was enough. 

The bickering between Minho and Changbin was faint; thought it was obvious Minho was losing. There was no way that Changbin would let any sort of willful ignorance come in the way of Minho’s recovery. 

"I'm fiiine~"

"No."

"I just slept for an eternity! Binnie!"

"NO."

"BUT I DON'T WANNA-"

“Too bad.”

With the increasing racket, Jisung and Felix turned their heads towards the commotion. 

Minho was putting up a surprisingly strong physical battle. The blankets had yet to be completely pulled off of Minho, but Changbin was swamped. His arms were full of fabric, the pile hiding nearly his entire body from sight.

With his scary glares failing him, Changbin resorted to his usual way of arguing: childish and nonsensical.

“I DON’T WANNA-”

“I don’t like eating vegetables, either, but I still do it~ BECAUSE IT’S GOOD FOR ME~”

“Stop talking about food unless you’re going to make me some!” Minho’s voice cracked mid-sentence, the sickness finally showing itself completely.

"Min, just let the poor boy check on you. He's worried and so are we. Please?"

The fighting froze and ended instantly upon Chan's pleading request. Even if he was all the way across the room, the blonde held an incredible amount of power. 

Everyone was amazed as Minho quietened, grumpily folding his arms and pouting at the wall.

A loud, but cute, sneeze shook the boy’s body.

“Awh~ our sick hyung~ we’ll make you better in no time, yeah?” Jisung could practically hear the heart emojis flying through the air. Felix’s chuckles were muffled against Jisung’s shoulder. The feeling brought warmth to his soul.

Throwing the wad over his head, Changbin shuffled closer to Minho's side and lifted the messy shirt up.

A high-pitched, disgruntled whine made the hearts of the entire room drop.

_ Is it bad? Did it get infected? He really should go to a hosp- _

"AaAH HYUNG! You did this to yourself!! It was all clean and pretty  _ and look at this. _ My hard work!  _ You-  _ You're banned from moving!  _ Forever! _ ” The complaints started out angry- but Changbin quickly lost steam, whining cutely as he threw weak fists at Minho's shoulders.

"Stay there! Don't move!  _ Don't even breathe! _ Don't think! Just! Stay! There!" Nearly tripping over various scattered limbs, Changbin sprinted out of the room.

Still facing the wall, Minho mumbled, "is it bad?"

Jisung didn't think he could stomach looking  _ or _ answering. Thankfully, Felix beat him to it:

"Looks like you got into a prison fight. And lost, hyung."

"Well." The words grew even quieter. "You're not too far off."

A shiver ran through Jisung as he pushed away unwanted suspicions of what could've caused the injuries. Minho would tell him when he was ready. Next to him, Felix laid an arm lightly over Jisung’s shoulders and bent towards his ear: "is this okay? Doesn't hurt? Does  _ anything _ hurt?"

Slightly overwhelmed at the sudden questions, Jisung just shook his head in response. 

As always, his twin seemed to understand and clarified his initial word vomit: "I'm not hurting you?"

Jisung shook his head again. And, for added confirmation, scooted towards Felix.

The weight of the arm grew- but it was a comforting presence for the boy who had so recently lost control.

Changbin came skidding back in seconds later- expertly hopping over precarious body parts- with familiar supplies in his arms.

Turning his head away, Jisung finally relaxed into the comforters. It was so weird- how his life could change so much in the span of a few hours. From being worried about the lab burning down to nearly dying (again?) to the stress and peace of their 'movie night'... it was insane, honestly.

Before he even realized it- Jisung was asleep underneath Felix.

When Jisung woke up- he was confused.

His face was  _ most definitely  _ still smushed into the padded flooring. An arm was thrown over his shoulder. But now there was someone breathing into his ear-  _ the wrong ear _ . 

Felix had been on his right. Minho on his left.

The warmth underneath the blanket had increased to the point it was uncomfortable- and the moisture hitting his ear definitely didn't help the situation, either.

With a groan of frustration, Jisung rubbed his face into the blankets and reluctantly cracked an eye open.

_ Minho-hyung...??? _

The unmistakable fluff of brown hair- unusually unstyled- was right next to his face. The elder was sleeping peacefully, the worst of the fever seemed to have passed.

Something was weird. More than the unusual redness and hairstyle. To get a better look, Jisung propped himself on his arm and tilted his head.  _ Wait…  _

It didn’t take Jisung long to figure out exactly what was out of place: the cinnamon. It was gone.  _ Was it the soap we used? Maybe it’s his cologne. _ Minho didn't seem like himself without it. 

There was something so raw and special about seeing Minho completely at the mercy of others that Jisung felt the need to ingrain it into his memory forever. 

He could've gone without Minho sneezing in his face, though. 

Thankfully, the elder woke with the startling action so he could fully see the results of his bodily projection.

Minho wasn't as repentant as Jisung had hoped: instead, he laughed until he couldn't anymore. The stitches and Changbin's re-patching were  _ already _ getting a work out as the elder unabashedly threw his head back and belted out overly-joyful sounds into the empty room.

Jisung could only stare.

It was beautiful to see the boy so elated after such a traumatic experience; but, the feeling of slimy fluids sliding down his face wasn't one that Jisung was willing to overlook.

Though, the moment Jisung raised a hand to wipe away the grossness, Minho was there. His hand was batted away, quickly replaced by a towel being ran down his face with soft swipes. The unexpected care was awkward for Jisung- no doubt the majority of his body was flushed- but he stayed still.

Between still dying chuckles, Minho conceded: "I'm sorry?"

"Sure. Sounds like it."

"Really." Minho's voice grew serious, humor fading away completely. "I am sorry."

The towel dropped away and Jisung found himself frozen. It was obvious what the elder was referring to. Last night. It was still too soon for Jisung to rehash those memories. Much too soon.

He didn't want to voice the distressing thoughts, but there was only one way that Minho would truly understand what he was thinking. So, he forcefully ignored the weak tone and wobbly syllables and forced the words out: "don't apologize. I don't want to think about it. We're here now- and that's what matters."

With the lightest touch possibly, Jisung's head was tilted backwards. 

At first, he thought the elder was going to clean up any remaining fluids; but, the intent was clear as soon as Minho's fingers traced down to the base of his neck. Over the places that were undoubtedly discolored and warmer than the surrounding areas.

"What happened?" The strain to keep his voice light was painfully obvious. 

Jisung squeezed his eyes shut, forcing the pictures of the monster away.

He wasn’t willing to give words to the memory for fear of making it more real than it already was. 

Talking about it would give it power. 

If he ignored it- it would all go away.

Minho didn't believe anything of the sort.

The way that the fingertips trailed across his neck and along the tops his collar bones almost tickled, forcing Jisung to involuntarily pull away as a terrible sensation twisted in his stomach. 

It was horrifying: the extreme difference between how Minho was caressing his neck and how the assaulter had nearly snapped his neck. Two males. Two  _ humans _ . Capable of provoking completely opposing feelings within him.

"Jisung." Minho tried again, pulling away. The arm hung in the air- nearby, but untouching.

Shaking his head, Jisung couldn't ignore how conscious of the marks he felt. With little resistance, he pulled the blanket up to his chin, tightly wrapping it around his upper body.

"I don't know why you're hiding..." Minho huffed. If the boy truly wanted to press the issue, he could do so easily.  _ Very  _ easily. They both knew Jisung would submit with just a little more prodding.

Dipping his head underneath- he found a way to escape from Minho. The boy was crippled. Ordered not to move by Changbin (though he had obviously ignored those demands given recent events). There was no way-

A leg shot over both of Jisung's at the same time a hand landed on his far shoulder. Then- Jisung was rolling. Or more accurately- being dragged. Sucked in, perhaps.

He let himself be rolled across the blankets.

Despite the speed of the initial latching, the action was slow- gentle- enough that Jisung could have escaped had he truly wanted to.

As he had predicted: the end result was worth it. 

The warmth spread past being uncomfortable on his skin, lighting his insides up as well. Fully engulfed by man and blanket, Jisung found himself ridiculously comfortable. Though he would never admit it to anyone's face, after all their struggles, he ended up right where he wanted:

Rather than Minho be in  _ his _ arms (bleeding out)-  _ he  _ was in Minho's, safe and- 

_ MINHO’S BLEEDING... AGAIN?!  _

It had only been a second into rearranging their limbs, before Jisung started freaking out again. 

_ Already?! Did he rip his stitches open being stupid? Does he seriously not know his own boundaries?!!  _ His breathing picked up and he started pulling away to inspect the damage. Before he could even begin to shuffle backwards, Minho tightened his hold- locking their bodies together.

" _ Hm?? _ Sunshine. Calm down. Hey. It's water. You just knocked over the water.  _ Hey! _ You're fine. I'm fine. _ We’re fine.  _ Sto- You're going to hurt both of-"

As if he was fulfilling a prophecy, Jisung slammed his injured foot against the edge of Minho's shin. All movements ceased as the two stared at each other, almost trying to gauge the severity of their own reaction off of the other's.

Then Jisung laughed. 

A too-loud, _ I-can't-believe-that-just-happened _ laugh. 

Minho hesitated before returning a few low chuckles of his own. Straining, he stretched the few inches between them and knocked their foreheads together.

The intimate action startled Jisung, his boisterous relief dying into small, embarrassed giggled immediately.

They stayed together, eyes unwavering as if playing a game of chicken. Who would pull away first?

Whispering with a genuinely concerned expression, Minho said the words that made Jisung realize they were far more alike than he had ever thought: “you don’t have to tell me how it happened, yet. But- whenever you’re ready: I’m here, okay? There’s nothing to be afraid of.” 

Apparently, Minho would be the first to pull away. The small victory brought Jisung a spark of pride before it was wiped away with overwhelming shock: 

“We match, after all.”

The elder ran a hand over the bandage around his own neck, expression blank as he blatantly drew Jisung’s attention to the area. The spots of blood along the starkly white bandage made Jisung think that they had  _ definitely  _ gone through  _ much  _ different experiences to obtain their injuries- but the comparison still pulled at his heart. 

Minho was right, just not in the way he was thinking. 

_ We match in more ways than just our injuries. _

"I told you so."

The change in Minho’s tone shocked him, but Jisung picked up the taunting easily. It was familiar. Easy. Stressless.

"Yeah. You're a know-it-all."

"Takes one to know one." Minho quirked an eyebrow. A challenge.

"You're right." Jisung's contrastingly carefree tone surprised the elder, eyebrows shooting upwards in unveiled shock.

" _ What? _ "

"Are you deaf? Do you need Changbin to check your hearing?" Feeling ballsy, Jisung mockingly snapped his fingers near Minho's ears.

Though his eyes never left Jisung's, Minho caught the boy's hand mid-snap with astonishing accuracy.

"If either of us needs to be looked at- I think it's you. You hit your-"

"You're looking at me right now, aren't you?"

"I am." Rather feed into the taunting any more, Minho left the acceptance hanging in the air between them. Fingers interlocking seamlessly, neither one moving before the other, their hands rested delicately between their chests.

The confession had Jisung balking. Minho hadn’t even missed a beat. He’d known the question was coming- set Jisung up for it, probably.

Clearly- by the smirk blossoming into a full smile- Minho had won. 

And he knew it, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If any of you are wondering about my stance on the... situation. This about sums up how I feel about it:  
https://i.kym-cdn.com/entries/icons/original/000/024/196/sign.jpg
> 
> This fic will proceed as planned: a roller coaster of chaos. (That being said if I confuse you, as a reader, at any point: feel free to ask; but try to be specific please? I'm not a mind reader and I never want to be.)  
°˖✧◝(⁰▿⁰)◜✧˖°


	29. Peer Pressure

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next to be revealed! Hyunjin!  
Main: Seungmin, Jeongin  
Platonic: Woojin
> 
> °˖✧◝(⁰▿⁰)◜✧˖°

The door at the opposite side of the room creaked open. Felix popped his head in, the bright orange hair shining in the fairy lights.

"Good! You're both awake! Dinner's waiting." At the end of his overly bright words, Felix slipped out and shut the door behind him. Jisung had never felt more betrayed by his twin. 

The six _ perfectly functional _ boys couldn't _ honestly _ expect them to make it across the mess of blankets to whatever was waiting on the other side of the door, could they? It was an idea Jisung expected to be born from Hyunjin or Seungmin's maniacal brains- but Chan? Woojin? Changbin? Jeongin? _ His twin? _

The decision was easy for Jisung.

Minho’s reaction came before Jisung could even settle in, thoroughly prepared to sleep through the meal. "Nuh-huh. We're going to go eat. You are _ not _ staying here. You were just asleep. Food time. Up we go. Come on, hurry up." Despite his egging on, Minho hadn't moved more than his mouth.

Head contentedly buried into the fluff between him and the elder, Jisung grumbled: "How about you lead by example, _ hyung _?"

He should've just kept his mouth shut.

Feeling Minho pull himself away, into a sitting position, Jisung felt only slightly mortified. Because, this time, _ he'd _ caused the pain. He’d been the one to light the spark in Minho and force him to move in his obviously injured state.

_ Where’s Changbin? Shouldn’t he be stopping this?? _ The thought crossed Jisung’s mind, but so did the the theory that he wanted someone else to come solve his issues, rather than fix them himself.

"Okay. Okay- stop- _ stop_!" Jisung waved his hands in Minho's direction- willing the boy to stay put _ for once in his damn life _.

Minho _ did _pause in his actions, however, his breath coming out in forcibly slow movements. Their eyes met. Though Minho was obviously trying to hide it, the pain was evident in the lines of the elder's face: the scrunch between his eyebrows was back and his lips were drawn tight.

"Let me help you, yeah? We’ll do it together." Minho looked like he had something to say, but Jisung continued before any argument could escape: "Changbin worked too hard on your stitches for them to be torn. _ Already_."

A flash of guilt ran across the opposing's expression, but it was gone as quickly as it had shown itself.

Minho nodded. 

"If you're in pain- we'll stop, yeah? Just say the word."

"I should say that to _ you- _ ” Minho broke their eye contact, suddenly finding the wall next to him very interesting. _ “ _I took more pills than you did.." The grumble was quiet enough to Jisung to ignore as 'typical grumpy Minho complaints'.

Not willing to sit in silence when there was a waiting dinner, Jisung took charge. "I'll get up first; then, we'll get you up, okay? Okay." There wasn't any time for resistance as Jisung immediately started gathering his feet under him as soon as he proposed the idea.

"Hey, wait-"

Jisung completely ignored Minho. _ He _ had proposed- no, _ challenged _\- the idea. So, he was set on seeing it through.

His legs were resisting the movement; but, there was no way he was going to stop after starting. Bracing his hands on the ground, Jisung took in a deep breath. _ Halfway! _ All he had to do was stand up straight- and he'd be up! The worst part would be over!

Hands wrapped around his wrists, stabilizing- not constraining- Jisung's movements.

"I'm here if you need help." 

Less than a minute ago, Jisung had assured Minho that _ he'd _ be the one doing the helping. But, as he stood, fighting against the unstable ground, Jisung was glad to have the support.

His legs wobbled like a newborn fawn’s; thankfully, though, Minho made no comment on it as he patiently held onto the younger’s ascending wrists. Jisung paused in his ministrations to take a quick breath. Looking down, the elder's attention was acutely focused onto Jisung's wrapped ankle.

Feeling the need to prove that he was stronger than his injuries: Jisung straightened, huffed, and brushed his clothes off haughtily with a misplaced amount of pride.

"Okay! Now-"

Minho released Jisung’s arms to fail his hands cutely in reaction to Jisung's small success. Almost immediately, the cut on his abdomen pulled tight and Minho was left in a crumpled, groaning heap at Jisung's feet.

"Hey! Stop being extra! You're seriously your own worst enemy at this point!" 

_ It's like he has no sense of self preservation. At all. _

"’If you know the enemy and know yourself, you need not fear the result of a hundred battles.’" _ Art of War. Really!? Not the time. _

"Too bad getting on your feet is the hundred and first!" Jisung snarked, hands on his hips as he bent over Minho. With astonishing duality, he sobered and questioned: "now. How do you want to do this?"

"One step at a time~" Minho, refusing to be serious, sang with a childlike expression.

A huff, twitching eye, and rising annoyance later: Jisung leveled the elder with a _ very _unimpressed glare.

"What? You asked?" The playful tone was more than beginning to grate on Jisung's nerves. At the lack of reaction, Minho sighed, losing the lightheartedness. "Give me a minute and I'll be up. Just-” Another sigh. ” ... turn around, though. Count to sixty out loud."

He had absolutely no doubt in his mind that he did _ not _ want to let Minho fuck himself up again; still, Jisung shuffled around before he could even think about any counterarguments. And started counting.

At **16 **the shuffling of fabrics began.

**30**: A large inhale.

**34** : A high-pitched, pained exhale that lasted torturously until **56**.

From **40 ** to **53 **there were intermittent slams of hands on the wall, each of which made Jisung's heart beat quicker in fear. The anticipation and unknowing was killing him. He just wanted to help Minho. To support him and help alleviate any suffering he possibly could.

At **59**, there was a tap on Jisung's shoulder.

**60**.

Minho was upright.

Kind of.

Ish.

If you would count a ladder leant against a wall as upright, then Minho was upright.

Completely flushed, sweating, panting, definitely more dependent on the wall than his own body; Lee Minho was ‘standing’ in all his glory.

Jisung whined instinctively- arms reaching out to help the boy. It hurt his heart to see someone so strong and selfless in such a large amount of discomfort. There wasn't much he could do in terms of moving closer; Jisung was finding it hard enough to balance on his own two feet. Still, though, he felt the need to at least _ try _and provide comfort.

Their bodies met halfway; Minho somehow found the energy to push away from the wall- flopping directly into Jisung’s waiting embrace.

Arms wrapped around each other, they stilled. Any part of their bodies which was unconnected felt like it was covered my molten lava; the relief that they provided to each other through physical contact was undeniable.

Shuffling around so that their sides were pressed together rather than their chests, the boys each took in a deep breath.

Minho nodded. 

Then, Jisung nodded back. 

And they were off.

Like a well-seasoned team in a three-legged race, they waddled through the forest of blankets and pillows and random snacks.

At the end of their struggles (and much too frequent, overly-clingy pausing), their reception was far less energetic than either one expected. 

In fact, both boys were completely ignored as they took up their seats at opposing ends of the conjoined tables. Being separated left Jisung with a sense of reluctant displeasure. It had been short; but, the way that he and Minho had been more-or-less attached at the hip since he had gotten back from school was a comforting sensation.

The weirdest part of the entire experience- including when Chan had only stared at Jisung’s feet, sadness blatant on his face- was the silence. No one was talking. Or whispering. No one was eating. Or bickering. Or even shuffling in their seats. It was like Jisung and Minho had been transported into a wax mannequin set.

If Jisung hadn’t known better, or smelled the dishes placed across the tables, he would’ve been convinced that it was all just a dream. A dream of somewhat terrifying, blinking, statues.

The cafe was so quiet that Jisung could clearly hear Minho’s panting- despite the people sitting between them.

He hated it.

To his left and right, respectively, Chan and Felix had taken to staring at their laps, complex emotions passing over their faces at a pace too rapid for Jisung to decipher.

Minho broke the silence, making everyone start at his stern- and surprisingly deep- voice: “what is this?”

He captured Jisung’s attention, but no one else seemed to be willing (able?) to respond. In fact, the accusatory tone seemed to make everyone retreat further away.

The way the boys were arranged around the table was unsettling too- as if it had been meticulously preplanned. The two circular tables closest to the conference room had been pushed together; nine sets of cutlery prepared around a wide assortment of foods; everything from fried chicken to salads and various types of noodles covered the table.

To Jisung’s left sat Chan, Hyunjin, Woojin, and Seungmin;

To his right were Felix, an empty chair?, and Changbin.

_ Where’s Jeongin? Did he go home early? Did he get in trouble for the fire alarm? Did he eat? I hope he’s okay.. _

None of the usual pairs (sets? in the case of Hyunjin, Seungmin, and Jeongin) were next to each other; the glaring lack of adoring gestures and sly touches made the atmosphere feel oppressive. It was quickly ruining any warmth he had gained from the previous few minutes. 

Felix had seemed so happy before; now he was just wringing his hands and fiddling with his pants as he waited. The face his twin was making, pale and strained, had Jisung wishing he could get up and unreservedly bear hug the younger. But- Jisung couldn’t. 

Not right now, at least.

“If you’re not going to tell us anything, why would you make us come here?” _ Us. _

Minho was _ far _ past merely being annoyed. He was pissed, hungry, impatient, and _ certainly _not in the mood to be ignored. 

It was the first time that Jisung had heard the elder’s tone be so imposing. _ I would hate to do business with him. _ Minho’s ability of maintaining his cafe for so long became completely viable to Jisung. 

“Do you enjoy wasting our time? _ your own _ time? Is it funny? Are you enjoying it? Because I’m not.”

The suffocating silence carried on.

Jisung really just wanted to get up and leave. He could’ve been sleeping. Curled up into blankets that smelled like him and Minho. Maybe- he could’ve possibly convinced the elder to stay with him. The rice crackers and Doritos would have been enough, had he (they) gotten hungry. And despite everything, it was very unlikely the boys would’ve left them to starve had they chosen not to get up.

_ Damn Minho for dragging me into this shit. _

As if sensing the younger's growing animosity, Minho looked up and met his gaze. 

Though the fury was definitely still present, it lessened as he took in Jisung’s uncontrollable, nervous fidgeting. There was something communicated between them. Both calmed slightly; yet neither was able to let go of their initial, overwhelming emotion.

Jisung had been so distracted by Minho that, when the creature meowed at his feet, he completely jumped. Nearly fell out of his seat, honestly. No one came to his aid as he pulled himself back into the center of the chair; his heart ached at being surrounded by so many people and being ignored by all but one.

He bent down, a small smile on his face, and lifted Midnight up onto his lap by his scruff. It went limp, completely trusting Jisung with his life. _ You always seem to come around at the right times, huh? _ Jisung busied himself with petting the soft fur. The quiet purring he received in return slowly soothed the tension out of his body.

It was a welcome distraction. By entertaining himself with the small, black, rumbling kitten, Jisung was able to ignore the entirety of the uncomfortable situation.

“Jisung?”

For Chan to use his full name- it had to be serious.

For Chan to be _ speaking _\- it had to be serious.

Though, given how everyone had been acting, the formality didn’t surprise Jisung in the least.

Jisung looked up in response. First at Chan- who was tentatively (and somewhat ...hopefully? Scaredly? Blankly? Jisung couldn’t figure out what motion was hiding in the brown eyes.) staring at him; then the remaining people. Only Minho met his gaze: a look of stern, concerned observation. 

The others froze.

The blonde continued, voice carefully controlled: “Jisung, we- as a group- have something to tell you.” Chan attempted to hold his curious gaze, but only lasted a few seconds before he broke away- clearly anxious. Obviously seeking comfort, the boy risked a short glance down the table, to Minho. 

That his first mistake.

Minho knew Chan well enough to immediately understand whatever Jisung was unable to. If the air had been oppressive before- it became utterly stifling as soon as Minho frantically scrambled next:

“Wait. Chan. No. ThAT ISN’T YOUR-”

Whatever Chan was going to say to Jisung was overpowered by Minho’s panicked rage flaring up. Had he not been injured, Minho would- without any second thoughts- be rounding the table and picking a fight.

Part of him wondered what would happen; if the pair were on equal ground health wise, who would side with who. Who would _ he _side with? Who would win? Jisung pushed the thoughts aside, mentally chastising himself for getting distracted in an evidently important situation.

Chan pursed his lips, exhaling, as he waited for Minho’s rage to break. With the lack of reaction- from _ anyone _\- at the outburst: the words died away. A silently seething cafe owner was left in its place.

Woojin spoke, voice calm, without looking up: “Min. We talked about it and we all agreed.”

The attempted explanation only added more fuel. “So now I’m not a part of the ‘we’?! Since when do we make decisions without someone? Since when is _ seven _ equal to _ eight _?! How could you all just-”

“IT ISN’T FAIR AND NEITHER IS ALL OF THIS! SO WILL YOU JUST AGREE WITH US AND TRUST US INSTEAD OF TRYING TO FIGHT EVERYTHING?! WE’RE DOING THIS FOR ALL OF US. WE MADE THE DECISION AS A MAJORITY WITH EVERYONE’S BEST INTERESTS IN MID. IT DOESN’T JUST AFFECT YOU. WE’RE ALL IN DANGER. YOU NEARLY DIED, HYUNG. JEONGIN WAS NEARLY ASSAULTED. JISUNG HAS HAD TWO CLOSE CALLS NOW, TOO. THIS ISN’T ONLY ABOUT YOU.” Hyunjin’s outburst level everyone surprised. Jisung had the impression that the boy was always emotional, but this level of intense ...desperation? was entirely new. Whatever topic they were all in agreement over, it had to be serious.

Hyunjin couldn’t seem to stop his rambling and continued, voice breaking more with every sentence. Jisung watched as the boy broke his frozen stature, curling inwards to comfort his growing misery. “I didn’t want it to be like this. It- it wasn’t supposed to be this bad. It has to stop, hyung. W- we can make this s- st- op. We ca- can… it’ll be… okay…” By the end, Hyunjin was a stuttering, hiccuping mess.

The loud outburst still didn’t break the remaining boys, though Jisung could see the faint signs of their expressions darkening. _ What’s he talking about?? _ Jisung was so confused at the random thoughts Hyunjin was voicing, that he couldn’t do more than gape at the collapsing boy.

As if responding to the rising emotions, Midnight yeowled from Jisung’s lap- the piercing cry effectively laying silence over the room once again. Felix jerked mechanically, reaching over to run a hand down the kitten’s body. Instantly, it continued purring again, butting it’s head up into the boy’s palm.

Despite the closer proximity, his twin still didn’t look at him. Jisung almost wished _ he _ were the feline. Why was Felix so responsive to the animal, but not his friend who was _ obviously _ struggling and lost? Even if everyone (Except Chan and Minho) was playing the “Ignore Jisung Game” then why weren’t they- _ at least- _ comforting Hyunjin?

The tenseness had Jisung’s emotions raging- tumultuous and uncontrollable. Thus, at the sight of the kitten settling back down, he giggled.

The few light, barely-there, could-possibly-been-imagined puffs of air caught the attention of every. single. person. Cat included. Though he didn’t look up, Jisung could feel the weight of all eyes snapping towards him. The overwhelming attention had him balking. Focusing on petting the startled kitten with vigilant precision, the boy hoped he was at least breathing enough to continue living.

And after a few more oppressive seconds, Chan spoke:

“Jisung, meet Jeongin.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Remember when I said this story has three parts?? THIS chapter kicks off part three. Welcome~
> 
> °˖✧◝(⁰▿⁰)◜✧˖°


	30. IF

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Jisung, meet Jeongin.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Minho's set is next!:  
Primary: Jisung  
Secondary: Changbin  
Platonic: Woojin, Chan
> 
> Also, sorry if this seems like a roller coaster of a chapter. But, I can't see such a reveal coming out all at once- or smoothly. This is 1 of 2.  
°˖✧◝(⁰▿⁰)◜✧˖°

With a sound of confusion caught in his throat, Jisung’s hand collided with Felix’s. At the brief contact, Jisung jumped, startling himself  _ even more _ with how quickly he jerked away. In his lap, the kitten squirmed at the jostling; gathering itself with a soft, disgruntled whine. The ginger boy sat back, arms crossed over his chest, as he watched the feline climb up to his twin’s neck and wrap itself like a living scarf.

A gentle, vibrating, push into the underside of his jaw had Jisung’s head swiveling as he suddenly remembered Chan’s words. No one else had entered the cafe. 

_ Maybe he’s in the kitchen? Or the bathroom? But…. I already know Jeongin… What is Chan on?  _

No one moved a finger as they watched the boy with bated breath.

“Where is he?”

Silence.

Anxiously, Jisung filled the room with his thoughts: “Did he go home? Is he alright? Nothing happened after the fire alarm, did it? Innie  _ did  _ eat, right? Did he take some food, at least?”

Still, there were no answers. Though- the feline began licking Jisung’s jaw, small swipes as if to calm the human. Desperate for a response, he found that everyone’s gazes had dropped to their laps. Each boy shared a similar expression- pale, strained, lips drawn tight, eyes wide and unseeing.

Though they had arrived together, obviously Minho was in on the inside joke. The loneliness ate at Jisung’s soul. He  _ yearned  _ to be apart of them, once again. Just like earlier- when everyone was peacefully lazing about. (When he was cocooned in Minho’s arms.) Anything that wasn’t the awful set up in the middle of an otherwise empty cafe.

“Hey, i- if you want me to leave, all you had to do is t- tell me…” Honestly, he was beginning to feel utterly ostracized in a community that he had just begun to love- and fit into. It hurt. More than he would’ve expected. 

_ They could’ve told me some other way. A break up over dinner? With everybody present? Why couldn’t Chan just leave me another one of his damn notes instead? How embarrassing.  _ Pictures of his soon-to-be life flashed in front of Jisung’s eyes- the shack, the cold, the running from police, the getting kicked out of school or being put in the system because he couldn’t afford a trip to the doctors. In such a short period of time, the cafe had granted him a peaceful solace that he had become shamefully used to. The idea of going back to his ‘old life’ was….  _ horrifying _ .

Loneliness fueled anger. Scooting his chair backwards, Jisung began to stand up. His balance was awful but he managed to get upright. Detaching the cat, however, was another ordeal. The small ball of fur which was always so calm and content sank its hooks into Jisung, easily piercing through his shirt and into his skin.

Both Chan and Felix hopped up, the elder quickly steadying Jisung while Felix lifted the kitten away. A furious command came from the opposite end of the table:

“Jisung. Sit down.”

Jisung was too upset to appreciate the care that both boys took when lowering him back into his chair..

Minho hadn’t lost his smolder. Watching Jisung’s ankle give out under him as his body gave into the command pulled at his heart; though, he was too frustrated at the rest of their company to break. Chan and Felix were there- there was no way Jisung could get injured (any further).

With everyone reseated, Minho took charge.  _ Enough of this shit. _

“Well. You started this. You explain.” He took the time to openly glare at each of the boys individually- enforcing and communicating his thoughts on the subject.  _ He was going to find out someday. I just wish it wasn’t like this. _

Chan had looked the most apologetic. But- the mediator was always striving to keep everyone happy. There was no way to do that with the way things were at that time. Thus, it didn’t surprise anyone when the blonde spoke up, attention directed solely on Jisung:

“Jisung. There’s… something that you need to know about us. To help keep you safe- as well as us.”

Eyes wide, Jisung reciprocated the elder’s solemn nature.  _ What the hell? What’s this got to do with Jeongin? Why is everyone so on-edge? _ He just wanted to go back to the old days where there was happy bickering and mischievous touches. 

As if preparing for the explanation, Midnight leaped from Felix’s arms onto Jisung’s lap, scrambling up to regain his original place on the boy’s shoulders.  _ They  _ did  _ say that he likes high places…  _ The added warmth and small breathing motions helped to keep Jisung sane.

“That- that’s Jeongin.” The statement came out forced, strained, and an octave higher than Chan’s usual, conversational pitch. A shaky gesture at the animal on Jisung’s shoulders clarified what (who?) exactly he was referring to.

The purring stopped. The kitten was frozen around his neck, pulled back far enough that Jisung was able to crane his head and look it in the eyes. His mind was empty as he tried to decipher Chan’s statement.

“Midnight? Your name is ...Jeongin?” The cat stretched forward, eyes unwavering, and lightly pressed their noses together before pulling back to his original position.

Reaching a hand up to run it over the soft fur, Jisung frowned. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t know sooner. I’ve been calling you something that isn’t even your name...” Turning his attention back to the table, Jisung tilted his head. “Do you name all the cats around here after yourselves? Is it like... a companion thing? Do I get a cat, too? Is there some sort of initiation I have to do first? Is that what this is about?”

As if something went down the wrong pipe, Hyunjin gagged- choking on nothing but air.

Chan ignored the boy- while Woojin sympathetically patted his back- eyes set on Jisung’s interaction with the small animal.

“That isn’t Jeongin’s  _ pet…. _ . That  _ is  _ Jeongin.” 

The seriousness in the elder’s voice thoroughly confused Jisung. He couldn’t do anything more than blankly stare at the blonde, dumbfounded. 

Exposed, the cat yowled, suddenly launching from Jisung’s shoulders and shooting down the hall- towards the bathroom. Felix got up with a heavy sigh and sauntered away after the cat.

Hyunjin’s muffled coughs eventually settled and silence fell over the table. Again.

Jisung stared down the hall, transfixed, as he tried to comprehend the situation. He couldn’t come up with a  _ single  _ situation that would explain what had happened so far.

Suddenly, there were groans from the hall. They weren’t filled with pain- more similar to the whines a boy would make when being woken up in the morning.

And then Felix returned, sans the jacket he’d been in- now left in gray joggers and a pale blue t-shirt- he looked tired, but happy. A swaddled bundle of human was held high in Felix’s arms, the head pressed firmly into his neck. 

Apparently, lounging around the cafe in boxers was common practice. Because the visible tuft of light brown hair, which immediately gave away Jeongin’s identity, was brazenly curled into Felix’s arms, shorts barely showing underneath the ginger boy’s oversized jacket. From the slow rise and fall of his shoulders, it seemed as if Jeongin was passed out.

The small boy was set into the unclaimed empty place between Felix and Changbin. He looked absolutely drained. Pale with dark circles, Jeongin immediately toppled into the awaiting embrace, draping his entire upper body over Felix’s lap with a long groan.

Jisung really wanted to ask what was wrong- be given an explanation that everyone else seemed to have. To reach over and run a calming hand through Jeongin’s hair. Take some of the burden.

Yet, he stayed still.

One by one, the other boys began fidgeting, eyes running over the youngest’s exhausted form.

Felix only chuckled, wrapping his arms around Jeongin’s body. Bending down, Felix pushed his nose into the youngest’s hair. Shaking his head, his twin nuzzled into the softness. The gesture was so carefree and adoring that it didn’t fit the situation.

“Jisung.” 

Chan was speaking again, tone gentle and hushed as to not wake the (now) snoring boy. 

“‘Midnight’ is Jeongin. They’re the same… being. The same soul.”

Pausing to see if the information was sinking in, Chan twisted his hands in his lap. Obviously, the conversation wasn’t easy for either party.

Jisung was silent. His brain wasn’t working. It couldn’t even begin to process what was occuring around him. Who he was. Where he was. Where  _ they  _ were. Who were  _ they _ ?

His only reply was loaded with incredible, intellectual analysis: “huh?”

Twin huffs came from the left; Seungmin and Hyunjin were glaring at Jisung with the same amount of annoyance and distaste, Expressions so similar that they could’ve been mirrored images.

With a spike of anxiety, Jisung glanced over them and willfully settled his attention back onto Jeongin’s resting form.  _ I wish I could sleep that well. _

“Tell us what you’re thinking.”

_ Of course _ , Minho would be the one to call him out. 

They looked at each other, desperately grasping at the smallest of signals in order to understand the inner workings of the opposite person. One of them was struggling to maintain control. The other was completely empty- a canvas waiting to be painted.

“I... I don’t know.. what to think?” A thought crossed his mind that was nearly shocking: Jisung wished that he could be  _ told _ what to think. That way- nothing would be suppository or an incorrectly formed opinion that could possibly lead to painful understandings. Minho could give that to him, couldn’t he?  _ Would _ he?

“Do you think Chan is lying?”

The suggestion immediately seemed insane. Why would Chan lie to him? And if the blonde  _ did…. _ Why would it be about something so specific and random? 

Jisung didn’t find a single part of him that believed Chan was anything other than honest and faithful.

“No.”

“Then, you would believe Chan if he said he could become an elephant that juggled burning pineapples?” 

While the image would’ve been hilarious in any other situation, Jisung only bit his lip as he seriously considered the question. Jisung wouldn’t believe a suggestion like that because he didn’t think Chan would ever bring up such an exaggerated proposal, to begin with.

“...No.” 

Minho’s expression was thoughtful- calculating. It seemed like the elder was gently nudging him along a path, dropping bread crumbs while making constantly ensuring Jisung was following even if he didn’t know the destination. 

“Then why do you believe him about Jeongin?” The leading question wasn’t attacking- the slight tilt of the elder’s head revealing innocent curiosity.

“...I don’t.. know?” The disconcerted admittance was quiet. A mumble. But, everyone heard it.

Chan interrupted the conversation, reminding Jisung about the presence of people other than Minho: “it’s okay if you don’t understand. I know it’s not…. common.” 

Not abnormal or strange- but uncommon.

The questions continued, lightly probing: “do you think you’re dreaming?”

“...Maybe?” His head  _ did _ feel full of cotton, but the range of emotions and sensations around him made it seem real- at least on  _ some  _ level.

“Jesus- stop asking him questions. I’m sick of hearing his wish washy shit.” 

Seungmin dropped his hands to the table, gripping tightly at the edges as he looked around to find someone that would support his outburst. While Hyunjin met his gaze, the boy (surprisingly) didn’t reciprocate the aggression:

“Minnie… he needs to understand.” The apologetic nature of the statement was mortifying for Seungmin. The only allies he had in life were turning against him: 

A complete betrayal.

Rather than experience  _ more  _ painful opposition, Seungmin stood in a fit of rage. Hands balled tightly at his sides, the caramel-haired boy was caught between a childish tantrum and utter defeat. He looked around the table, once again, but no one met his pleading pout. 

Stomping his feet, Seungmin whined, childishly seeking  _ some  _ form of relief from the awful situation. Jisung couldn’t even find it in himself to be mad at Seungmin. The younger was only acting as Jisung felt (in some detached part of his mind): torn between the wish to be comforted and the lonely struggle of processing turbulent emotions.

Changbin was the first to get up, responding immediately to the quickly forming tears. The short boy all but jumped around Minho, hands coming to rest firmly on Seungmin’s cheeks. Fingers tracing over the younger’s face, Changbin leveled a soft, but stern, gaze at the imploding boy.

“It was hard for me too, remember?”

“But-!”

“I even ran away, love. I didn’t give  _ any  _ of you a chance to explain. He’s still here. We all are.  _ You  _ can do this. We’ll be together, no matter what. It’s okay.” With each statement and subsequent caress, the fight seeped out of Seungmin’s nearly vibrating body. 

Reluctantly, the brunette nodded, body completely collapsing against Changbin. 

Though the shorter undoubtedly had been hitting the gym recently, he wasn’t  _ quite  _ ready to hold up  _ that much  _ live human, just yet. Together they stumbled, alarming Minho, who put up his hands in caution, prepared to catch them if they fell. The gesture was unconscious; rather than practical, given the boy’s injuries.

The scrambling led to the duo falling, Changbin’s head narrowly missing the side of Minho’s chair.

The loud crash captured everyone’s undivided attention; some boys only craning their necks, others were standing, ready to provide aid.

There was no need to worry.

Seungmin’s anger quickly flowed into shock and guilt towards pure adoration. Without a word, Seungmin rearranged their limbs until he was sideways in Changbin’s lap, arms tightly encircling the elder’s neck. Changbin, legs spread out in a V, was merely leaning- thoroughly amused at the clingy younger- back on his arms. 

It seemed as if this outcome had been expected. At last, Seungmin was being comforted. Even if it came at the cost of Changbin’s tailbone.

From his spot across the table, Jisung couldn’t see either of their expressions; though, the soft, unrestrained giggling washed his worries away. 

The rest of the room was still silent (save for Jeongin’s snoring), staring at the duo whose heads were buried into the other person’s neck, unashamedly enjoying the peaceful moment. 

After about five minutes, the pair stood, brushed their clothes off, and returned to their seats- moods considerably improved.

The exact moment that Chan opened his mouth to continue the explanation- Jisung found the confidence to speak up:

“What did you mean: ‘too’?”  _ What was so bad that you had to run away?  _ Changbin was one of the last people that Jisung could see running away from a situation. The boy always seemed so balanced. In Jisung’s mind, he would be more inclined to believe that Changbin would yell and break things before he would run and abandon a situation without receiving the proper information.

Without missing a beat, Changbin laid the truth out: “We’re the only humans in this room, Jisung. You and I.”

Now... _ that _ was a lot. 

Jisung mentally added it into the pile of “ Words That Are: Vague and Unable to be Processed At This Time”.

Minho’s probing was back, the elder’s arms folded onto the table as he leaned forward, ready to catch every minute reaction Jisung made. “Ask a question.” 

It was an innocent attempt, really. He was slowly trying to involve Jisung’s mind- force the conversation into being two-way. But, Jisung felt like he was floating. His brain somewhere far away, surrounded by clouds with no comprehension of what was occurring to its body. It was hard to process the smallest parts of the environment (such as the fading scent of coffee), let alone the abstract ‘truths’ they were trying to convince him of.

Rather than thinking, actively processing, and participating: Jisung felt a switch inside of him flip. Leaning back into his chair, the tension drained away. Jisung folded his arms over his chest and said the first thing that came from his mind:

“How do I know  _ you’re _ not lying to me?” The question was directed at Changbin, who didn’t look surprised in the least. The boy chuckled dryly at the accusation, shaking his head. 

“Well… I can’t really  _ prove _ that I can’t do anything... but they can prove that they  _ can _ , I suppose. If they’re comfortable.”

On autopilot, the next question came immediately: “what do you mean?” 

Because Jisung seemed to be showing at least  _ some  _ form of (albeit, apathetic) interest, Minho mirrored the younger’s position; back against the chair, held tilted, and eyebrow raised.

To Jisung’s right, Felix answered while continuing to run his fingers through Jeongin’s hair: “Those of us who…  _ shift? _ ” Chan nodded to confirm the verb was adequate. “only do so in front of the people they’re absolutely comfortable with. It takes a lot of energy going from one form to the other and it can leave a person really vulnerable.”  _ Like Jeongin, right now. _ “Not to mention, it can take ages to shift if you’re new to it- but that’s really only for teenagers.”  _ No wonder he’s so exhausted.  _ “There’s some that get… stuck. But, it’s rare.” Felix looked like he was going to be sick.

Chan took over, nodding at Felix’s explanation. “Just imagine the differences between an animal’s anatomy and a human’s… it takes a lot of arranging to go back and forth. The change can be excruciating.”

“And if you’re injured?” The supposition visibly surprised all but the person it was directed at. Everyone’s attention was directed to the opposite end of the table. Minho, despite his uncaring posture, no longer looked as aggressive. His neck was still wrapped with a stained bandage, and there was a certain stiffness of his core that was just barely detectable in the awkwardly straight angle of his back.

“Yes.” It was emotionless, a tone that matched Minho’s expression which was now incredibly guarded. He didn’t want to make this about  _ him. _ It was about  _ them- a _ grouping that now included Jisung.

Though it wasn’t his place, Jisung  _ had  _ to know what happened: why had he, Changbin, and Hyunjin nearly gotten the scare of their lives? Why was Minho sitting across from him injured?

“What happened?”

Unsurprisingly, Minho clamped up. His lips pulled flat, forming a displeased frown. 

When he said nothing, Woojin cut in for the first time that night. His voice was quiet- cautious- as he laid the indisputable on the table.

“You knew it was coming, Min. It’s affecting  _ everyone _ .” When Minho didn’t even twitch at the condescension, Woojin pushed harder: “We all have the right to know.  _ He  _ has the right to know.”

_ What could be so important that the idea of them being Anamagi is basically insignificant? _ It  _ definitely  _ seemed like there was something more pressing occurring around them.  _ Maybe they have turf wars or someone provoked the wrong person?  _ Was it possible that Jisung had instigated an already existing issue that night with Mid- Jeongin and ...Sunshine?

“I….” When Minho found his voice, he was burning holes into the dish in front of him, unseeing, but- at the same time-  _ seeing  _ his memories. His words were detached from all emotions; as if he’d become a search engine prompted to reading a script:

“They got me. When I was out…. And- I don’t know. Somehow, I got caught. It all happened too fast. There was a lot of yelling and I freaked out. I remember someone with one of those collared sticks they use to catch strays. I thought it was some Animal Control Unit…” Minho paused for a shaky inhale, his shoulders shaking with the effort to maintain composure. “It wasn’t. They were awful. It smelled awful. Everything… was wrong. Three men. Two tall and one short. In the bad part of town.” 

Jisung sucked in a sharp breath, realizing just how cruel the methods had been.  _ I was over there. It must have been one of  _ those  _ traps. _ He felt nauseous. The air was too thick and too little. It had been difficult for  _ him  _ to escape with the two animals- as a human. 

_ Minho was alone. Why was he alone?? And- OVER THERE. Of all places.  _

_ Why.  _

_ WHY??? _

The next words snapped Jisung’s attention back. “The loop on the end of the stick was made of barbed wire.” One of the elder’s hands rose to his throat, lightly grazing the bandage before dropping dead into his lap. “They had a taser.. switch blades… and… tried to dr-drug me. But!” The word was louder than the rest, choked out, causing Jisung to flinch and shrink into his chair. 

Fresh memories flashed through his mind- mutating the foods in front of Jisung into repulsive enemies. The room was spinning- tilting on an axis that shouldn’t have existed. 

”I got away before they could. I- I got away… B- before..”

Changbin leaned forward, pained at the admission. He placed his hand on the table- palm up- for Minho to take, if he chose to. 

It was a simple motion; but it pulled at Jisung’s heart.  _ He _ wanted to be down there  _ with _ Changbin. To provide and receive reassurance. 

_It’s over now... right?_ _He had to go through so much already. _Were they being selfish to basically demand an explanation, so soon after the events?

A few seconds of unbearable silence passed before Minho accepted Changbin’s invitation. Their hands were linked on the table, the grip so tight that Jisung could see stark outlines of blood vessels and tendons. On both bodies.

“Min…” 

The addressed didn’t look up… but squeezed their hands to signal his cognizance. 

“You got away…. But they... definitely drugged you. When you got back… you were covered in some liquefied catnip mix and… something else. We cleaned it off as soon as we could… but it.. was probably why you were out for so long… that with the shifting…” When Minho didn’t vocally respond- though, the boy’s eyes were open wide- Changbin continued his rambling: “Jisung noticed before I did… he said your scent was off… Not to mention Lix and Jinnie were acting really weird...” Separated by a shallow inhale, the following question was so quiet that Jisung had to strain to hear it: “you were so out of it when you got here… do you even remember getting back to the cafe?”

“...no.” 

Evidently, Minho hadn’t even realized there was a gap in his memory. 

Chan and Woojin looked absolutely horrified, the latter leant into Hyunjin’s side in a rare show of weakness; Hyunjin, Felix, and Seungmin all shared the same angry expression, as if there wasn’t anything in the world that could keep them from hunting down the assaulters. 

While Jisung internally agreed with all of them, he kept his face blank. It was more important- to him- how  _ Minho _ reacted. It couldn’t be easy to recall everything. (And in some cases: nothing at all.) Much less, in front of a bunch of people.

“I remember turning the corner, Shifting in an alley… I didn’t know who was here... I don’t remember what happened after..”

Changbin nodded in resignation. It was just as he had figured.

Jisung couldn’t hold back his question. Even though he could guess the answer. “What happens… if you’re injured… a- and you…?”

Reminiscent, and blunt, Minho looked down the table. Jisung’s assumption was correct. Minho’s expression said everything, the gruff words were only confirmational. “It hurts like a bitch. Imagine having a papercut then growing ten times in size.” Jisung cringed, the grotesque imagery was unnecessary; Minho’s expression of barely-suppressed pain remained unchanged. 

He had to be strong. This wasn’t the time, nor the place, to break.

Feeling that the short explanation wasn’t entirely adequate, Chan supplied more information. Jisung glanced at the elder, before returning his gaze to the injured brunette as the words sunk in: “it can kill us. If the injury is bad enough, changing forms can lead to death.”

An unsettling atmosphere fell on the boys- each of them lost in their memories of pain and loss. Except Minho, who was obstinately refusing to fall.

“What are you thinking?” 

The eyes that had just been searching his expression were  _ far  _ too observant. Or, perhaps, Jisung was just not as good at hiding his inner workings as he wished to be. A thought had run through Jisung’s head, making every part of his body twitch in confusion. And Minho had caught the small action.

“Why… didn’t you just come in… not-human?”  _ Wouldn’t that have been better? Safer? Less painful? _ Jisung had a suspicion of what Minho’s other form was- but didn’t want to guess and be wrong.

The elder’s expression cracked into a humorless grin. If it held any emotion, it was self depreciating. Changbin shook their hands as if to say ‘none of that’; but Minho’s sardonic smile only deepened.

“I didn’t know who would be here. What would  _ you  _ have done if you found some cat passed out in the middle of the cafe- bleeding, dying, and apparently- drugged out of its mind?”

Jisung took his time responding, feeling the need to answer with wholehearted honestly.

“I would’ve helped.”

“How?”

“I don’t know...wrapped it?  _ you- _ ” (was it weird that it didn’t take very much effort for Jisung to envision Minho as a cat? So many mannerisms fit…) “-in a towel and then called Changbin-hyung or Woojin-hyung… I’m not  _ that  _ great with animals so…”

Felix interrupted the conversation, teasingly adding: “I don’t know, Sungie~ I think you’d do great. Innie really loves you.” Jisung blushed, suddenly finding the hem of his shirt incredibly interesting. All the times he’d experienced with Jeongin ... _ Midnight... _ came flooding back. So many times: he’d been comforted by the little, black ball of fur. Even in his human form, Jeongin had been extremely supportive.  _ I never realized… _

It was weird that someone, without any obligations, would give up their time and energy to help someone… like him. But, then again, all the boys around the table had done the same for him, right? Some more than others- but  _ all. _

“That, and! I hear you’re really nice to sleep with~” Someone down the table choked on air, but Jisung didn’t have the balls to look up and find out who. Laughing, his twin clarified, “not like  _ that! _ My twin is  _ pure, _ stay away you perverts!!”

Taking advantage of the lighter emotions Felix had brought to the table, Jisung asked what had been bugging him since the beginning: “so… If Jeongin is a ...kitten? What…” He looked up, hoping someone would take the obvious bait save him from the embarrassment of possibly miswording the question. No one did, so Jisung winced and forced out the remaining words: “Are… you… guys?” Cowering behind his hands, Jisung struggled the silence that followed the incredibly awkward question.

Minho, unwilling to make his life easy, proposed a challenge: “why don’t you guess?” The sinister smile that followed was only for Jisung. At the blatant attention, the younger frowned with a pitiful whine.

Chan was a  _ little  _ more kind; though he wasn’t willing to give the student a free pass, either. “It’s alright if you get any of them wrong- or, a _ ll of them _ \- we just want to know what you think of us. We’re curious. We haven’t had anyone new in… a while.” Changbin nodded and shrugged in Jisung’s direction, confirming the idea.

Jisung’s innate yearning for perfection put a nearly unbearable weight on his shoulders, suffocating him.

Felix reached out, lightly patting him on the shoulder. “It’s just fun and games~ I promise no one will get mad. Though... Minnie might be a bit pissed if you call him a pterodactyl or something..” The hand withdrew and Jisung felt a twinge of sadness at the loss. With a glance down to where Minho and Changbin’s hands were still intertwined, Jisung took a deep breath.

Starting from Changbin, he went around the table clockwise, pointedly looking at each person.

“Human.” That one was easy.

“Kitten.” Even easier.

“Uh… tiger? Leopard? Some kind of big cat.” Felix’s eyes widened in surprise, just barely containing laughter. Still, he nodded at the guesses and waved a hand for Jisung to continue his embarrassment.

Chan’s second nature was harder. The elder was warm and caring, grounding and empathetic. Yet, he undeniably had another side that held overwhelming charisma and maturity. “Polar bear?” Okay- now Felix was  _ really  _ laughing.  _ I must be wrong. A bear in the city?? How does he get around? Where does he bathe? _ The image of a polar bear in a human-sized bathroom interrupted his serious thoughts. Jisung shook his head, exasperated at the ridiculousness, but stuck with his guess. 

Chan simply crooked his head in amusement, twisting a strand of hair between his fingers. “It’s the hair isn’t it?” 

“...Maybe?”

The next one came out before Jisung could think about any possible repercussions: “raccoon.”

Hyunjin shot up from where he was curled into Woojin, “you’ve got to be fucking kidding! They’re apex predators?! And I’m— I’M A FUCKING  _ R A C C O O N? _ A  _ TRASH PANDA???!!! _ WHAT THE FUCK, BRO?!!” 

Smiling as innocently as possible, Jisung shrugged. Gathering all the confidence and nonchalance he’d been allocated for his lifetime, Jisung waved his hands with a shrug. 

“If the shoe fits~”

It took both Woojin  _ and  _ Chan to restrain Hyunjin.

It was obvious that the gangly boy wasn’t  _ truly _ upset; though, his pride had  _ definitely  _ taken a hit. 

Woojin was one of the more difficult guesses- especially after he had snapped that morning. Before, Jisung would’ve pegged him as a docile and calm animal (maybe an otter?); but now, it was obvious that the eldest was multi-dimensional in the most unexpected way.

“Uh- don’ttakethisthewrongway-  _ cow? _ ” Good natured, Woojin only rubbed his chin in thought. “Moo?” His guess didn’t seem right- but Jisung figured that was the point of the whole game. To be wrong and amuse the rest of the boys at his expense.

“Dog.” Felix’s giggles returned, poorly muffled into Jeongin’s shoulder. Seungmin didn’t react, but Chan’s wide grin caught Jisung’s eye and something just seemed… right?  _ Maybe he’s one of those big dogs. Like a doberman or a pinscher. A guard dog that just doesn’t like anyone but its owners... _

Minho was purposefully left last, since he was another easy answer.

“Cat.”

“What color?” Of course, Minho couldn’t resist playing with him more. Minho was the type to toy with his prey. And, _ lucky Jisung _ , it was  _ his  _ turn to be batted around.

“That’s not fai-”

Uncaring, Minho pulled his hand away from Changbin, folding his arms with a lazy smirk.

“What. Color.” 

_ Why’s he doing this?  _ “Black.”

“Kind?”

“I don’t know what you me-”

“Height? Length of fur?” Minho cut him off to clarify his question.  _ Is he ever going to let me finish? _

“Uh…  _ fun size _ ?” The high-pitched wheezing from his right nearly wrecked Jisung’s concentration. Somehow, he was able to stay focused on the interrogation. “Short hair.” Jisung didn’t really know enough about cats to know specifics. However,  _ something  _ told him that the fluffy, white cloud of a cat he’d seen around was  _ not _ Minho.

Minho grinned- satisfied.

Apparently the answers were enough to free Jisung from his struggling. With a wave to Minho’s left, the boy’s revealed their (second) identities:

“Human.” Pointing at Jeongin’s, still sleeping form, Changbin rolled his eyes at having to confirm the obvious: “kitten.”

Felix smiled, happily giving the answer, “cat! Orange tabby, short hair~.”

“White Persian.”  _ The cloud. How fitting. _

Hyunjin, with some instigating pokes to the ribs from Chan, begrudgingly answered: “cat.”

“Cat.”  _ Woojin-hyung’s probably that gray one?… Minho-hyung said they’re always together, after all. _

“Dog.”

From across the table, Changbin corrected Seungmin, “puppy~!” 

Hyunjin chimed in, as well, not wanting to let the opportunity pass: “our cute lil’ pup~”

Minho couldn’t resist adding a laughter filled “mutt” into the mix of cooing.

“Knock it off.” 

Though his tone was harsh, Seungmin was  _ definitely  _ looking away to hide the bright redness in his cheeks.

Humor fading, Minho turned back to Jisung. 

“You’ve met everyone, already. In both forms.”


	31. Question

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woojin!  
Primary: Chan  
Platonic: Minho, Hyunjin
> 
> 2 of 2.  
°˖✧◝(⁰▿⁰)◜✧˖°

Somehow, Jisung had expected that. 

Animals were naturally drawn to him; though recently, cats had been around him far more often than usual. But if they were sentient- then all of Jisung’s dreams about being magical or special were  _ definitely  _ out the window. It kind of… made him...  _ sad? _

Sudden realizations shot through Jisung’s brain as all of the information sunk in and aligned in the right order.

“When I was with Jeongin...and  _ Seungmin? _ ” Though he didn’t look happy, the boy nodded. “That one night… those guys- the Hunters?- they said...I had  _ ‘the cat’ _ .”  _ It.. has to be him. Minho-hyung. If he’s in the competition _ ...  _ Why? Why is he giving himself away? Couldn’t he just go to a bar? Find someone nice in the cafe? _ Though, admittedly, there weren’t A LOT of people rolling through, surely, Minho wasn’t  _ that _ picky. 

_ Is it for the thrill? The danger, the games, the life-risking situations; It all just.. doesn’t make sense.  _

Why did Jisung feel  _ so  _ sad…? Everything seemed to be rubbing him the wrong way.

Normally, the insanity would’ve induced (at least some) fake sympathy and anger at the drastic, unnecessary measures. But..  _ this  _ feeling? Was something like being abandoned in the rain on a cold night. Having the one person you loved more than anyone else leave you behind. Spending precious money and time preparing a meal, only to drop it as it was being moved to the table. Or- having someone precious to you hunted like it was a not-so-innocent game of go fish.

He sucked in a shaky breath, shut his eyes, and forced the words out: “they were looking for you. They thought Mid-  _ Jeongin  _ was  _ you. _ And... they a- attacked us.” 

It didn’t take a keen eye to notice that Minho’s demeanor had completely flipped. The death-grip on Changbin’s hand had returned. And the elder’s struggle to breathe against the bandaging was becoming increasingly evident to everyone around the table.

“Yes.”

“Why?” At last, it was  _ Jisung’s  _ turn to interrogate.

“Why,  _ what? _ ”

“Why did you do it? Why  _ are  _ you doing this?”

Those along the sides watched intently, as if they had front seats to a tennis match.

“You have to be more specific.”

“Why are you, Lee Minho, at the center of the city’s competition? Why did you put yourself in danger?”

“I-” For the first time since Jisung had met him, Minho was at a loss for words. He- very obviously given the way his mouth was opening and closing- had thoughts swirling around his head; though, no way of coherently expressing them. 

Changbin’s hand was practically white with strain.

Woojin took over, the attention immediately snapping towards the sound of his solemn tone. “It wasn’t his fault.  _ Or, _ any of ours.” The second statement was directed at Hyunjin, who merely shrunk into the eldest’s side. “There’s a sick tradition among Shifters. One that dictates when… mates- for a lack of a better term- are supposed to be together. Most Shifters grow up in a closed community. To protect each other from Hunters.. pass down history and practices… and possibly meet their mates as most bonds are passed down directly through the generations. 

“There are some instances, however, when Shifters are Strays. Beings without families or communities. Being alone.. can make the shifting process more difficult- not to mention it makes it very unlikely that a Shifter will ever find their ‘mate’. Most strays die before they get close to the age. Reasons range from sicknesses that only affect Shifters, to being killed by Hunters, to being so emotionally ruined by the pressure of having an incomplete bond that the unbonded are pushed to their limits. Some go crazy- they harm themselves and others and completely lose control.... It’s awful..”

At that, all the boys were looking down, recalling memories of family and friends who had been affected.

Woojin, for the first time since the morning incident, was looking directly at Jisung. His eyes projected sadness, though more than anything- they were begging Jisung to understand.

“So… what does that have to do with you guys? And what is ‘the age’?”  _ They all seem pretty close… and mentally..? Healthy… no one’s that much older than me, either... _

“I’m unbonded. 20.” 

Minho didn’t look up. The pure, unrepressed misery created goosebumps over Jisung’s body. The words hit Jisung directly in the core, far deeper than a simple unhappiness that could be healed by time.

“Because I couldn’t find my other half, we all have to go through the challenge.” His voice cracked mid-sentence. With his free hand, Minho pushed his fringe away, quickly wiping the tears that were finally falling. 

“There’s an old myth-” Woojin began again, only to be cut off by Changbin’s interjection:

“A stupid myth.”

Without an eyelash batted, the tale restarted: “there’s an old myth that says those who are unbonded are the strongest among all Shifters. Because, they’re able to carry on without the source of their closest support. And, if a Shifter can’t find their designated mate, then there’s a chance that the said person is dead, right?” Minho let out a high whine, head dropping to the table. “So, the myth is that the bond between the two would transfer all of the energy and ‘powers’-” Woojin made air quotes ”- to the living half. Which would make the remaining person twice as strong. 

“People who fit that requirement are required to complete a two week trial. To test their strength and prove that they’re ‘worthy’...or capable.. of surviving. On their own. The challenges come in different forms but they’re always proposed by the Hunters once they learn a person who’s unbonded exists.”

“It’s stupid. Completely stupid.” Jisung wholeheartedly agreed with Changbin. 

Obviously, Minho was enduring a torturous existence. He didn’t deserve it. Sweet, caring Minho who was willing to save Jisung from the streets without a second thought. Give him employment and a place to sleep. Selfless Minho, who opened his arms (literally) and let a poor, nearly-homeless boy into his family.

The question came out more annoyed than Jisung meant it to: “so, why don’t you just… not?” Not very eloquent, but his intent was clear.

Chan, who was clearly ashamed, answered in a hushed voice: “we tried. We can’t. It’s an offering, of sorts. It’s sick, medieval, awful, and inhumane. But- we have to… we have to.”

“What happens if you don’t?”

“We all suffer.” Hyunjin had dropped his attitude from before, facing Jisung with resigned hatred. Whether it was directed at himself, Jisung, or someone else- Jisung didn’t know. It was impossible to properly read the boy’s chaotic emotions; but there seemed to be some mix of anger, remorse, and ...guilt? “If the trial isn’t initiated, participated in, and completed in some form- something awful always happens to, or around, the Shifter.”

Felix, ran his hand along Jeongin’s body- as if to keep the youngest warm- while he gave his attempt at furthering the explanation: “it always happens- but the way it does is unpredictable. Terrible disasters, unexplained poverty, chronic diseases, mass genocides. Entire societies have fallen apart due to Shifters avoiding the challenge.”

“Why can’t you just… hide from the Hunters?”

Minho was shaking- the dishes near his body clattering.

Everyone tensed, freezing at the severity of the next statement:

“The Hunters always know.”

“Those who wander... never survive.”

“The Hunters will always find them.”


	32. Hoodie Season

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jisung!  
Primary: Minho  
Secondary: Chan  
Platonic: Felix, Jeongin
> 
> °˖✧◝(⁰▿⁰)◜✧˖°

Jisung had no idea how he found the courage to voice his assumptions: 

“That’s what happened, isn’t it? You tried to hide. Somehow, they found out. And you were forced into this… this competition _ thing _. The Hunters have been trying to.. ‘win’? By completely ...eliminating.. you from the picture? And they think that I’m your accomplice or something? And that Jeongin is you? That guy at school, too… he’s a hunter, isn’t he?” 

Though he knew the answers, he hadn’t meant for them to be rhetorical questions. The lack of verbal responses was largely overshadowed by the horrified expression each person around the table wore. 

It had completely slipped Jisung’s mind that over half the table had _ no idea _ about what had occurred on the school grounds; Minho hadn’t even been awake yet. He found it surprising that the events around Jeongin weren’t spread around the group like wildfire- at the very least. 

“What happened at school?” Felix was looking between Jeongin and Jisung with a frown, evidently annoyed at being left out of the loop.

Woojin coughed, detaching a pouty Hyunjin from his side. Disjointedly mumbling about getting more water for the table, he disappeared into the kitchen.

Swallowing a lump caught in his throat, Jisung was somewhat comforted by the fact that Minho still had his head pressed to his desk. He didn’t need the pressure of the elder’s intrusive stare.

“Some guy I met in the nurse’s office at school cornered me this morning asking about that one trap we took apart. It was nothing, we got away.”

“He’s not telling the complete truth.” Jisung’s heart dropped. “It wasn’t ‘nothing’. If the three of us weren’t there Jisung wouldn’t be here right now.” Minho jolted, knees crashing into the table top with the involuntary motion. “The fuck nearly strangled Jisung in front of their _ own fucking school _ . There weren’t any teachers or guards around and I couldn’t even pull Woojin off the guy after we got there. It was…” the sentence left off as Chan shook his head, not finding an appropriate adjective for the situation. “More than bad- _ terrifying? _ and if anything _ even remotely similar _ ever happens again-” Chan turned to Jisung, demanding his attention, stern and seething “-I _ will _kill him, myself. I don’t care where It fucking happens. It could be the fucking principals office for all I care.”

Chan suddenly stood up, shaking the anger out of his posture, leaving Hyunjin to slump across all three chairs. With a look of utter adoration, Chan scooped the floppy boy up. 

Hyunjin flailed for a few seconds, alarmed at being in the air without any forewarning; but, with his head cradled in Seungmin’s lap, Hyunjin was quick to bury his nose into the younger’s stomach with a whine. It was almost comical how fast the normally aggressive boy calmed once Seungmin dropped a hand into his hair- ruffling it slowly. _ He’s definitely a lap cat. _

Jisung’s first instinct was to believe that Chan was going to Woojin; responding to the need to separate himself from the intense emotional recollections. 

The loss of _ another _safety net made him feel far less welcome in the tense environment- but who was Jisung to be so selfish as to ask them to stay and suffer? 

Searching for some form of comfort, Jisung wrapped his arms around himself, running his hands up and down his goosebump-filled limbs. The room suddenly felt like a tundra, and he was standing (sitting?) alone, waiting for a polar bear- or worse- to come eat him.

Seconds into spiraling, mint and vanilla enveloped his every sense; warmth wrapping around all of Jisung- a bubble which had been created against the harsh wilderness. Chan, draped over the back of Jisung’s chair, tucked his head into the boy's neck. The younger hadn’t noticed it, but sitting around in only his boxers and a thin undershirt was _ not _ the most enjoyable experience.

The act brought happiness to Jisung amidst the dreary memories and awkwardness. He hadn’t known there was something missing; but now that he had it- Jisung didn’t want the feeling to disappear. Instead, he leaned his head into Chan’s with a hum of appreciation. 

The small action sparked a protective fire in the elder.

“Don’t sell your experiences short. It wasn’t ‘nothing’ that happened to you- to us. And everyone here deserves to know. For your safety and ours. We all care about you, Jisung. Whether you realize it or not.” The air tickled a spot behind Jisung’s ear, making the boy shudder. 

“Am I too close? I’m sorry, I should’ve-” Chan began pulling away, startled by the unexpected reaction.

The whispers had brought a mix of emotions into Jisung’s heart: regret, shame, and newly- tentative adoration. In the midst of trying to figure out what each of the feelings meant, his body took control. Before the arms could disappear and the apologies could finish, Jisung reached up and latched on. He only managed to grab the tips of Chan’s fingers; but it was enough to halt the movements.

“Hmm?” The sound was back- right next to his ear. Chan's arms hung limply around the younger’s body.

Jisung really wasn’t comfortable admitting: 

a) he didn’t want to be left alone; 

b) Chan smelled nice; or, 

c) the recollection of the schoolyard events had spooked him. 

Still, his mute squirming was enough of a cue for Chan to stand again. The loss of heat alarmed the still-processing Jisung, making him whine. 

The hair on Jisung’s head bounced as it was patted with a soft chuckle. “Hush.”

Rustling lasted a few stress-inducing moments, before Jisung was scooped up and deposited onto a surface far more comfortable than the seat of his chair. A black hoodie was deposited in his lap, arms wrapped around his stomach, and best of all- Chan’s head nuzzled into the space between his shoulder blades.

The image of Chan feeling each, individual vertebrae of his spine underneath his nose quickly vanished as Chan laid his chin on his shoulder and began helping Jisung into the arms of his hoodie.

Jisung protestested weakly- though it was more out of courtesy than his actual thoughts: “you’ll be cold…”

Chan let out an amused huff and mocked Jisung’s whiny tone: “not if I stay here with you~ Keep me warm Sungie. I’m entrusting my health to you! Take care of it for me~”

Shaking his head, the smaller boy pulled the rest of the hoodie over his head and settled back into the embrace- pressing his heat into Chan.

When Woojin reentered, he found four of their boys sleeping. Five, if Minho was passed out, as well. The food was untouched and the conversation he’d dreaded was thankfully over. The snuffles blended oddly well against the sounds of the Seungmin and Felix playing on their phones. Changbin was awake, too, but he only spared a brief glance at Woojin’s new presence.

For the first time all night: the cafe was calm and peaceful.

The eldest took it upon himself to prepare the conference room for round two of their movie night. Blankets, bowls, and pillows were strewn everywhere; but, thankfully he was used to setting up the arrangements. It didn’t take long.

None of the boys were ever _ that _ picky about who they shared their sleeping spaces with, but there _ were _ some important details that couldn’t be ignored: as long as Jeongin ended up between people, Minho is able to latch onto _ at least _ one person next to him, Chan was on an end, and Hyunjin was towards the middle (to help his anxiety)- all would be good in the world.

Satisfied with the fluffy, color-coordinated piles, Woojin stood and brushed off fake dust from his hands.

Getting each of the boys into the room proved to be considerably more difficult than setting up.

Chan didn’t want to let go of Jisung and Jisung didn’t even respond to Woojin’s attempts at soft encouragement and shoulder pats. 

Felix- bless his soul- got the idea and got up without instigation, easily carrying Jeongin with him. The younger’s snoring wasn’t disrupted in the slightest.

Seungmin did the same with Hyunjin, though the younger had a much more difficult time dragging Hyunjin over to the space since he was far too gangly. Woojin chuckled. As soon as the tall boy realized that their youngest third was gone from the room- he suddenly gained all the energy of the world, sprinting and sliding over the blankets in his newfound haste.

Further down the table, Woojin found that Minho was, indeed, asleep. Short syllables slipped from him; choked words that were only audible once Woojin was within arms range of the younger. The occurrence was nothing new or alarming, but the pained tinge in the words hurt Woojin’s heart.

Minho’s hand was still clutching Changbin’s- as if the grip was the only thing that would save him from whatever his mind was currently concocting. Changbin was resting his chin on his free hand, spaced out, as he watched the sharp rise and fall of Minho’s shoulders.

A gentle nudge to the human’s shoulder brought him out of his reverie, suddenly on high alert.

“Bin, it’s just me.” Changbin slumped back in his chair with a long exhale. His body hurt from maintaining the previous position for so long, but there was nothing he could do about it now. Even worse off was his captive hand; Minho was crushing it in his sleep and Changbin _ definitely _couldn’t feel his purple fingers anymore. 

“We’re moving to the conference room. I don’t think anyone has the energy to deal with more stress right now.”

Changbin nodded his head in agreement. _ He _ didn’t feel like listening to any more harmful stories tonight, either. No doubt, some of the boys were going to have nightmares throughout their resting; so, they may as well get it over with sooner than later.

With cautious coaxing from both boys, Minho dragged himself up and shuffled to the room. He made it across the blankets with four hands hovering around him, ready to catch him should he trip.

Arrived at the opposite side, Minho pouted. His black and red bedding was folded back, ready for him to curl up and hide from the world. But- Minho was _ up there. _

_ So far away. _

Coming from behind, Chan wordlessly nudged Changbin out of the way, laying a dozing Jisung down. 

Now, Minho was even more pouty. _ Jisung _ was down there. And _ he _was still standing. The wound in Minho’s stomach pulsed, as if resonating with his growing misery. 

_ How unfair. Why’s he get to go first? This is _ my _ cafe. _

Filled with unhappiness, his tired thoughts quickly took a turn for the worse. _ He _ was the one who had brought an innocent human into all of this. Minho could’ve just turned him away when he couldn’t afford a drink that first night. 

It all would’ve been over. 

Jisung wouldn’t be hurt. He would still be going to school. 

Hell, _ Jeongin _ would be at school like normal, too.

And then, Minho was hit with a sense of vertigo. Lifted in the air without warning, Minho nearly pulled his stitches out in panic.

The assent paused. “Min, calm down. Do you want Binnie to stick needles in you, again?” He didn’t remember the first time- but that didn’t mean Minho didn’t immediately freeze in Woojin’s arms, instantly becoming dead weight.

The eldest lowered Minho the rest of the way, settling him in the middle of his somewhat overkill pile. The brunette looked pitifully small amidst the amalgamation of red and black; his amount of padding was nearly comical in comparison to everyone else’s.

Woojin had done that on purpose. Minho, when sick or injured, _ loved _ being babied and cherished at levels he’d normally deny. And the pampering _ didn’t _occur- they’d all hear about it once the issue went away. The lesson had been one quickly learned.

The moment Woojin’s arms left: Minho immediately pulled the pile over himself, eager to slip back into dreamland.

Felix, being a brat, crept over Changbin with a frighteningly innocent smile. His target was _ already _snoozing, flipped onto his stomach so he couldn’t even see the attack coming. 

The blanket was snatched.

Jisung let out a disgruntled shriek- his legs being re-exposed to the cold air after _ finally _being surrounded by warmth. Chan (and his sweatshirt) had worked wonders in eliminating his shivering; but, nothing could beat being wrapped up like a happy sausage.

Still asleep, the whining continued.

“Give it back to him, you blanket hog.” Changbin chided, smacking Felix over the head with a loose pillow.

“No!”

“Give it back!”

“No! I’m helping here! Sit and watch Binnie~ I’m a genius. Just. Wait.” The last two words were punctuated with overly teasing kisses on each of the elder’s cheeks. 

Changbin didn’t look persuaded; though, he _ did _ flip around to watch the mischief’s results.

Felix joyfully swung an arm and a leg around the smaller, pulling him tight and giggling a low “see~ I was right~” into the dark hair.

From above, Chan and Woojin joined into the laughter.

Seconds after Jisung’s whining began, Minho- who was considerably more awake than he’d like to be- threw part of his blankets on top of the cold boy.

The unexpected weight of what looked to be three comforters didn’t bother Jisung in the slightest. If anything, it brought him a feeling of ..well… comfort.

Without a thought towards the soreness in his body- mostly-unconscious Jisung didn’t care- he rolled towards the largest source of heat.

To those around, it was extremely surprising how fast Jisung had moved to lie against Minho. The elder, sandwiched between a small squirrel-human and a cold wall, frowned. Everyone expected Jisung to be pushed away, rudely returned to his original spot. 

Surely, that would’ve happened to any of _ them. _

Rather than give into his violent tendencies, Minho gave into his cat instincts- _ for once- _ and curled around Jisung’s body. Thankfully, the boy was conscious enough to avoid irritating both of their (many) injuries as he minimized the space between them.

Jisung was still partially on his stomach, though he was stuck in a seemingly- uncomfortable slant as half of his body was settled directly on top of Minho’s. Neither seemed to mind. Minho slipped an arm under Jisung’s hooded head, cradling it against his shoulder as his legs locked around one of Jisung’s.

The movement jostled Jisung, the boy temporarily tensing. “My ankle.” The exhausted, grumbled words were muffled in the sleeve of Minho’s shirt.

The elder smiled. Jisung was awake(_ ish) _ and even though he had learned the truth about all of them (less than an hour ago!), he wasn’t running away. There weren’t any hysterics or flying dishes. All in all, it had gone _ really _well. 

Minho didn’t dare to take any more liberties than he already had. 

Well. Maybe _ one _ more couldn’t hurt. 

Right?

Turning his head, Minho pressed their foreheads together, thanking all higher deities that Jisung still had his eyes closed.

“I know.” He let his voice drop an octave, nearly laughing (and ruining the mood) as Jisung completely relaxed back into him.

The leg locked between his was _ purposely _ the injured one. _ He _didn’t move around in his sleep very much, but from prior experience, Jisung liked to toss around frequently.

The others, however, couldn’t resist.

Felix was cackling. 

And, the eldest couple weren’t much more subtle:

“‘I know~’”

“Woojinnie did you hear? Our little Min-min thinks he knows something! They grow up so fast~”

Changbin, laughing, chucked the same pillow from earlier, directly hitting the blonde in the face. Woojin caught both the pillow and a stumbling Chan, pressing the pillow between them in a loose hug.

Felix yell-whispered, not taking his eyes off of the cuddling pair, “go away you old hags, let the beauties rest in peace!” The pair stuck their tongues out in practiced unity. They said no more, taking the pillow with them to the other side of the room.

Not even two seconds later, Woojin was forced to clamp a hand over Chan’s mouth in an effort to quiet the boisterous laughter that was induced from the sight of Jeongin and his boys: 

The youngest was sandwiched; the elder two laying around him in perfect mirror images. Jeongin was on his back, with each boy hugging one of his arms to their chest and one of their legs hooked over his. Somehow, they had managed to fit three heads onto a singular, standard pillow and still have space left over.

Everyone was together; they could finally relax since the truth had finally been shared.

Sounds of breathing and rustling fell over the room, each of the boys content at last.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter breaks the fic's 100k word mark.... it's crazy. Absolutely insane. I can't even imagine doing anything this scale- even though I've ACTUALLY done it now. So... thank you for reading this and dealing with my insane word vomit for alllll these chapters. It means a lot~<3
> 
> °˖✧◝(⁰▿⁰)◜✧˖°


	33. Voices

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chan!!  
Primary: Woojin  
Secondary: Jisung  
Platonic: Minho
> 
> °˖✧◝(⁰▿⁰)◜✧˖°

Jisung awoke to glass shattering.

He froze, fighting to hear any sounds that followed the distant crash. It had come from outside the conference room, but was too clear to be something dropped in the kitchen, supply closest, or bathroom.

_ Is there someone inside? _

_ The front wall is made of pure glass. _ Jisung didn’t have the impression that it was very thick, certainly not enough to stop someone who decided to aggressively enter the cafe.

Despite being horrifically loud, none of the other boys had even flinched. Which made the entire situation even more spooky.

Nothing except the howling of the wind and too-calm snores reached his ears. 

_ Did I just imagine it? _ Surely not. Jisung could still clearly remember the sounds: the initial impact _ and _ the resonant twinkling as smaller fragments hit the ground.

_ Something’s definitely wrong. _

An unwelcome feeling crept up Jisung’s spine, like cold fingers that were inching closer to his neck at a disgustingly slow, tantalizing pace.

Minho was supposedly a light sleeper. _ Why isn’t he waking up?? _ The lack of reactions around him quickly began fueling Jisung’s panic. He strained his neck away from Minho’s shoulder, only to find that there were still (only) nine, including himself, in the room.

Pain muffled by overwhelming fear, Jisung pulled himself upright. Minho didn’t whine or resettle- the body laying limp in the position Jisung struggled out of. The empty loop of legs looked particularly uncomfortable; but Jisung was far too concerned with the potential dangers to take notice of the abnormality.

_ Were they drugged?? Why are they like this? _Jisung whimpered as he nudged Changbin’s shoulder.

The area jiggled slightly; but the boy remained unconscious. 

Turning back to Minho- eyes beginning to water due to panic- he shook both the boy’s shoulders.

Whispering for fear of alerting any attackers, Jisung quietly begged the elder to wake up: “hyunggg. _ Minho-hyung! _ ” Taking a chance at sparking anger in the elder, Jisung continued, “Min-min!! You’ve got to get up. There’s something out there. It’s _ your _ cafe, _ you _ have to do something about it!” Even with a good portion of Jisung’s body weight over him and whimpers filling his ears- Minho didn’t even twitch, his breathing was still completely stable. “ _ Don’t leave me. _”

Honestly- Jisung _ really _ didn’t want to be the one to investigate. Out of all of them, he was the least qualified to battle any potential criminals. Even Minho, in his injured state, undoubtedly stood a better chance at protecting them.

Yet, fear quickly turned into anger.

Jisung’s resolve and mentality did a one-eighty as several thoughts passed through his mind at once:.

Everyone else had **families ** that would miss them. **Friends ** and **lovers ** that would mourn their absences. Maybe- the boys would be _ kinda _ sad if Jisung was gone. But, he’d also take _ so much _ burden away from them if he was gone; the possibility of losing his life was less scary than the repercussions of letting the eight get attacked.

If no one was going to do anything about the potential intruders- _ he _ would have to do it.

Getting up was as difficult, as always, but Jisung managed- fueled by the flaring emotions inside of him. The rest of the room remained still.

Jisung jumped as the conference room door creaked; it was _ his _ conscious action, yet the shrill sound still scared the shit out of Jisung.

The cafe was empty. Cleared of their dinner, the tables were arranged back into the normal configuration. The massive lack of life _ and light _ struck Jisung the most.

_ Something’s _ really _ wrong. _

More than just the initial dread, _ something _was so seriously misplaced in the area that Jisung was on edge- ready to run back and curl into the first available body. Nothing was right. At all. 

The hairs on Jisung’s neck stood up as he looked around, frantically. His eyes were still watering; an uncontrollable reaction that was stressing 

The door at the front was broken, just by the handle. A large stone sat feet away from Jisung. The circular hole in the glass was completely jagged, but the intent was clear.

Even worse- there was a clear line of the shattered glass at an angle away from the door- it had been opened.

Thoroughly frightened and hyperventilating, Jisung brought his hand up to cover his mouth. If there was someone in the cafe with him, there was no way they hadn’t noticed him by now. He was at an _ extreme _ disadvantage. Short, injured, sleep and food deprived- if someone had the balls to break into a cafe in _ this _neighborhood…? 

Jisung was _ totally _ fucked.

Rationality took over his brain, once again. _ I can’t handle this alone. _Jisung yelled, vocal cords straining to produce a sound loud enough. If a person heard him, at least there would be someone able to come to his rescue. If not… well, he’d figure that out soon enough.

“Minho-hyung?!” 

No response.

“Chan-hyung?? Woojin-hyung?? _ FELIX!!!!” _

No response. 

From his place outside the door, Jisung could see into the conference room. No one was even shifting at his cries.

And cry he did.

Quickly passing hyperventilating, Jisung moved into complete panicked choking. He was losing air quickly and freaking out more when the supply wasn’t refilling. Suffocating on his own tongue, the tears overflowed.

He hadn’t ran away from them. So why were they abandoning him, now?

Jisung didn’t want to believe it. Above all- he still held onto the belief that Chan wouldn’t let him die alone. The elder had saved him _ one _ too many times just to let the effort go to waste _ like this. _

Rushed footsteps brought immediate, conflicted emotions to Jisung- who was bent over, his body nearly giving out from the lack of air.

Was it the boys? Were they coming to save him from the horror? From whoever was in the cafe and potentially ready to harm all nine of them?

Or- was it the criminal? Was he about to die without even thanking the others? Would everything that they’d done for him go unappreciated? Even if he _ did _ have the opportunity- there was so much to say that Jisung doubted any words would come out. 

He cried harder.

_ It can’t end like this. _

“It’s _ you. _” Hands wrapped around his neck. 

The gravelly voice and stench of unwashed _ filth _flooded his every sense.

“I knew I’d find you here.”

When Jisung opened his eyes, he didn’t see any one. 

The pressure of the hands only increased.

The man was strangling him from behind, relentlessly jerking Jisung back and forth. He struggled to stay on his feet, but the attacker seemed to know the exact angles to pull Jisung at so that he didn’t completely collapse. 

The awful comments were so loud that Jisung felt- with every fading decibel- his hearing give out. Maybe, it was due to the asphyxiation; but, his vision was nearly gone too. Jisung gave in, letting himself be thrown around like a rag doll. Best to conserve energy, right? With that ideology, his eyes fell shut. They weren’t helping him, anyway.

“It’s fucking _ knew it. _ You can’t fuckin’ hide. You think you’re so god damn smart. So much _ better _ than us. You _ met _ the bitch. It was _ right there. _ And _ you _ let it _ escape. _ How _ pathetic _are you that you can’t even-”

“_ JISUNG!!!” _

At the sound of _ his _ name being _ screamed _, Jisung startled.

It wasn’t the malicious tone of the person behind him. Jisung didn’t know _ who _ it belonged to- but it resonated with his entire being, pulling him out of the terrifying situation. Like a rope leading up from a dark hole, he followed the desperate calls. 

When Jisung opened his eyes: it was dark.

He was able to breathe through both his nose _ and _ his mouth, pulling in precious air like it was about to be taken away again.

Jisung was saved.

They’d gotten to him in time.

Relief washed through Jisung’s body, similar to being thrown into a freezing pool of water.

Hands were still on his body, though. Less aggressive than before, but Jisung’s brain wasn’t in the place to interpret them as non-threatening.

“Sungie.”

“Hey, Ji, calm down. We’ve got you, now. You’re okay.”

Still, he squirmed. His vocal cords weren’t working properly. If they were, he would be screaming _ “get off of me!!” _ in a heartbeat.

Thankfully, someone heard his thoughts.

“Hey- stop touching him. He’s freaking out enough. Stop.”

The voice- the one that got him away from the bad man- didn’t stop his body’s movements; though it did bring Jisung’s mind a level closer to consciousness.

The hands left him and he felt weightless. With no sense of his own body, Jisung’s arms swam randomly through the darkness. Occasionally, he managed to hit something solid- producing yelps from both sides.

“You guys get out of here. It’ll be fine. Just give us… I don’t know.. Twenty minutes? And be quiet.”

Jisung’s thrashing picked up at the increase of sound around him. It was scary: not being able to understand what was going on. He just wanted to be freed from the horrifying pictures that kept popping up in his mind. The hands. The man. The way that his vision faded out as he lost the ability to breathe.

“Turn off the lights.”

The click of a shutting door was the finale of the ruckus.

Jisung paused. Tensed. Listening closely to his surroundings; unsure of whether he should be in fight or flight mode.

“Jisung?” 

_ Minho? _ His mind returned. The cautious lilt resounded with his core, continuously pulling him higher- further away from the suffocating darkness. 

_ What? I can hear you! Where am I? _

“Ji? You in there?” The painfully hopeful whispers pulled at Jisung’s heartstrings. 

_ I’m here! _

“I’m going to take the blanket away. You’re going to be okay. I’m here. No one’s going to hurt you. It’s dark- but I’m right here.” The words were purposefully slow, but it still took Jisung a few additional moments to process them. Before he had mentally prepared: the darkness lightened a shade and the weight covering his entire body was lifted away. 

He wasn’t in control. His body stayed completely unresponsive despite his internal straining to reassure Minho of his state.

Jisung stayed stock still, eyes clenched shut. In the distance, he heard his breathing- far too fast to be calm.

The soft words were coming from his right, close but not _ too _close.

“You need to open your eyes, Ji. See where you are. See who’s here. You’ll be safe. I promise.”

Without Jisung’s conscious decision, his eyes cracked open.

It was dark- but not overwhelmingly so. The bedding to his left was empty, the door was shut, the overhead lights were off and the shades were pulled. To his right, Minho was sitting up, concernedly bent over.

From the ground, Minho looked uncharacteristically terrifying. The angle was one of a horror film; the bloody bandage around his neck unhelping.

The elder brought his hand up to Jisung’s head, probably to move away some damp hair, but halted midair when Jisung flinched.

Hand settling falling back into his lap, Minho nodded apologetically. There was a strange sadness in his eyes at being denied the action. Jisung couldn’t do anything about either reaction. 

Ugly self hatred sparked in the younger. Not that he could express it.

“Sorry- that was my fault. I won’t touch you until you say so.” A light went off in the elder’s head. “I’m going to have Chan bring something in, I’ll meet him at the door and be right back. Okay? Okay.” He didn’t waste time waiting for a response that wouldn’t come. A quick message was sent from Minho’s phone, and an audible ding rang through the cafe on the opposite side of the door seconds later.

The muffled grunts of pain faded as Minho made his way over the blankets, heavily relying on the wall for support. _ What could he possibly need right now? _

The door cracked open, letting a blinding line of light into the room. Jisung rapidly blinked the refractions away, turning his head towards the opposite wall.

Neither of the boys said anything as the transaction took place. After a few more moments, Minho returned to Jisung’s field of vision. A small cup was in his hand, filled with something that the elder paid careful attention to as he took up his place next to Jisung, once again.

“Can you open your mouth?” Jisung was still turned towards _ that _ side, so Minho when bent down, their faces were only inches from each other. 

They were at the same level; making eye contact unavoidable. The empty, spaced out look in Jisung’s gaze combated the strong, unyielding sincerity of Minho’s.

The younger decided to ignore whatever the fuck had happened before for the sake of calming down. He was _ here. _ Safe. Protected. Cared for. No longer was he stuck in that _ awful _ situation. _ Minho _ was here. Nothing bad could happen. _ Right? _

He was _ almost _back in his body. Faint pinpricks were beginning to reach his brain, all the way from the ends of his limbs. Though, Jisung still didn’t possess any motor control.

Thus, he was stuck maintaining unwavering eye contact with Minho. Rapid blinking shocked (and somewhat confused) both of them- Jisung had managed to find the one motion he seemed to have the capacity to control.

“Is that a yes?” He blinked again. Quickly growing frustrated with himself at not being able to question- and consent to- Minho’s actions: Jisung just kept blinking until there was a cold lump pushing at his lips.

On impulse, he allowed it to slip into his mouth. The object nearly slipped straight down Jisung’s throat, but his reflexes caught it and forced it back up with a series of harsh coughs.

“Woah, easy there!” Minho, alarmed, reached out again, but pulled back as soon as the motion had started.

That only annoyed Jisung further. Internally, he was screaming and cringing at the thought of telling Minho “just touch me- I’m fine!” But they both knew he wasn’t. Hell, _ He couldn’t even talk _.

“Focus on the ice cube. It’s coldness. The shape. Move it around, if you can. Let it pull you back to your body. Follow my voice if you need to.” _ Easier said than done. _

What should’ve been freezing was only a slight coldness; the mild temperature of running a hand under a faucet. It was mildly distressing; his lack of sensations.

“Ji. Focus.” The command pulled him back. More soft, but slightly less stern: “you can hear me. You can see me. I’m right here. Now- focus on yourself. What can _ you _ feel?”

_ It’s cold. _

“Coulwd.” The distorted word surprised them both. 

The ice cube was nearly melted, the cold water seeping slowly down Jisung’s throat. He could feel it- the small cracks in the ice; the water flowing from his mouth into his empty stomach; the surprise in the elder’s expression.

Minho let out a laugh of disbelief; the sound more lighthearted than mocking. “Of course it’s cold, you dork, it’s ice. Keep thinking about it. You’ll be back soon, Ji. Don’t worry and just let it happen. I’m right here.” 

_ Stay with me. _

The ice was gone, soon enough. Jisung had nothing to distract him from the depths of his mind. And it didn’t take long, at all, for the scarring events to begin trickling back.

His mouth opened without his consent.

“Another? The other one melted, didn’t it?” 

Jisung blinked.

This cube was larger and _ cylindrical _. A small hole in the middle took his interest. Swirling it around slowly, Jisung found that there was a matching hole on the other side, as well. Orienting it just right, he blew out a long huff. 

The high whistle scared Minho; the elder almost hitting the wall as he came out of his daze, staring at Jisung with wide eyes. 

Minho leaned forward and cracked a brilliant smile.

“Sunshine.” The word was dripping with adoration. “You’re doing good.” 

_ Thanks to you. _

The hand that had nearly touched him earlier- _ twice now _ \- was laying limp over Minho’s crossed legs, just inches from Jisung’s shoulder. The younger’s eyes dropped to his fingers; staring intensely as if he could memorize even the smallest details. It was weird, but Minho’s hands were just… _ really pretty? _ Not in any sort of perverted way… the build was simply aesthetically pleasing to the younger; _ and _it gave him something outside of his mind to focus on.

“Hmm?” Minho hummed, noticing the change in attention. Teasingly rolling his wrists in circles, winding the fingers around; he nearly laughed as Jisung’s eyes moved with the smallest of movements- completely transfixed. Apparently, it was so hypnotizing that the younger didn’t even have the attention span to react to the small dribble of ice water running down his chin. He had yet to close his mouth after the last ice cube entered.

The mass of water that had yet to be swallowed became increasingly evident as Jisung’s monkey brain spit out: “twouth.” 

_ Touch me. Please. _

Somehow, the elder perfectly understood him. 

It was shocking, honestly, because if their positions were reversed, there was _ no way _ that Jisung would have _ any idea _ what Minho would have meant.

The reach was hesitant, Minho was waiting for any negativity in the younger’s reaction with undivided attention. Slowly, a hand was pressed against Jisung’s crown. 

Just. Laid. There.

He was a bit closer to achieving what he yearned for; but Minho was being too (albeit, rightfully) tentative.

Again, without conscious direction: Jisung nuzzled up into the palm, neck outstretched, forcing the fingers into his hair.

Minho (bless his glorious, selfless soul) took the hint and began sifting through the strands, carefully pulling apart any knots. The rummaging was calming and soft; as perfectly soothing as Jisung had imagined.

The small, nonaggressive stimuli occurring both inside and outside of Jisung’s head were doing wonders to bring him to where he should be.

That also meant that Jisung was rapidly comprehending his current state. He was still wearing Chan’s black hoodie- long parted from its owner, the mint smell was slowly being overtaken with warm cinnamon. The blanket that Minho had taken away earlier was also pulled away from his legs, leaving one pulsing with faint pain and the other prickling with coldness. His hair was probably a mess from his earlier (childish) panic; an undeniable rats nest that was slowly being untangled by Minho’s (gracious, consoling, angelic) careful musings. And the worst was _ definitely _his face. His eyes felt heavy and puffy, lips dry and cracked at the corners (from yelling?), and there were dried tracks that had been left from liquids leaving his holes.

All in all, Jisung felt disgusted and repulsed. At himself.

Swallowing the remains of the ice cube, Jisung let out a high whine. He shut his eyes again. Minho had already seen his mess. _ Too many times. _Fuck- he’d probably been there as it progressed, this time.

_ What happened..? _

Minho’s hand stopped moving. Though, he didn’t pull away.

“Jisung? Everything okay?” Thumb swiping small crescents into Jisung’s temple, the elder bent over further- just to make sure he didn’t miss the smallest of cues. “You’re doing so well, what’s up? What’s bothering you?”

The genuine concern fueled the need to fix his issue. It took a minute of pure concentration for Jisung to gain the ability to bring his arm up to his face. Ideally, he would’ve casually wiped the residual liquid tracks away and lazily returned his hand back to his side.

Things never went his way, lately. His stiff arm wasn’t quite ready for the range motion. It awkwardly flopped across the middle of his face, partially covering it.

“Hey! Careful. You could’ve hurt yourself..” The motion had taken all, and then some, of Jisung’s energy. So when Minho carefully lifted away his limb- with light grips around Jisung’s upper arm and wrist- he had no way to stop the elder. 

All that effort- for nothing.

Minho replaced the younger’s arm back at his side.

Unable to move- the refractory period was seemingly really long- Jisung whined. He pouted the best he could despite being somewhat paralyzed.

“You don’t need to hide. You look great, Ji. Never better.” Still, Minho pulled the hood from under Jisung’s head and patted gently at the streaks which had become wet, once again. 

He’d understood. Again.

Face dry, Minho placed one of his hands lightly on the boy’s cheek, the other still tangled into the middle of his hair.

“Hey. Open your eyes.” The commands seemed to come naturally from the elder and Jisung found himself following them easily. “Good. Can’t have you slipping again, okay? Stay here. With me. You’ve already come so far, it won’t be long now. It’ll be okay, Ji.”

How did they come that far? From strangers to stressful employer-employee to experiencing situations together that were so intimate that Minho was wiping Jisung’s tears and murmuring sweet reassurances to him.

_ A nightmare? _

Was that what it was?

_ What exactly happened? _

His body wasn’t up for moving… but Jisung could damn well force his throat to work.

“What… happened?” He ended the question in a coughing fit. _ How classy, Jisung. _

“I don’t know, either. _ You’re _going to have to tell me, Sunshine.” Minho’s thumb started rubbing over the younger’s cheekbone, the delicate motion meant to serve as a distraction from harsh memories.

It worked.

Kind of.

Not really.

Even the smallest mention of the ...events.. freaked Jisung out.

His hands flew up to his throat, needing tactile proof that he was no longer in danger.

Jisung’s immediate panic and lack of breathing startled Minho- especially since it seemed like he was trying to strangle himself at the mere mention of his dream. The marks from earlier in the day starkly contrasted the rest of the younger’s pale skin. The images of Jisung actually managing to strangle himself flashed through Minho’s brain, making him nauseous. He had to stop it all before it even started.

Catching Jisung’s hands just as they began to dig into his throat, Minho pulled them down sharply. Jisung struggled against his strong grip, animalistic sounds of pain coming from deep in his throat. He had sunk further away, again.

“Jisung. Stop. Nothing’s around your throat. There’s nothing there, Ji. Breathe. Do you want to take the sweater off? Is it too tight?” 

The questions were too fast for the younger to register. 

He continued to struggle.

“Stop.” Minho’s voice dropped at least an octave as the concern was trumped by tightly controlled annoyance. Jisung was going to hurt himself- and Minho was merely sitting by watching- no, _ letting _ \- it happen. _ No. _

The aggression stopped immediately. Jisung was frozen. Breathing erratically, Minho had a thought that the younger was trying to make himself pass out whether he managed to use his hands, or not. It scared him. “Jisung. Calm down.” _ For both our sakes. _

Minho had managed to catch both hands the same way: Jisung’s fingers wrapped around his thumbs. It would’ve been cute, were they not mid panic attack.

“I won’t ask again. If you can’t do it yourself: breathe with me. When I squeeze your hands, breathe in. When my grip loosens, breathe out.” They stayed that way for a while. At first, Minho thought Jisung hadn’t been able to process his words, but after a couple of stressful minutes: their breathing synchronized. Though, one of them was considerably more ragged than the other.

The elder broke the calm, feeling the need to get the words out into the open before Jisung overthought the past, again: “you don’t have to tell me now. Okay? Tell me when you’re ready, whenever that is. Or, tell one of the others. But- don’t bottle it up. Don’t let whatever it is stay inside and hurt you. You’re so much more than a shitty memory. Please… understand that..” Minho’s voice was still low, the desperate tone striking Jisung to his core. 

He wanted to believe him, truly. 

But, it wasn’t that simple.

Nothing about Jisung’s life was simple recently.

He had lost control. Almost immediately after gaining it back.

Jisung’s wide eyes were glued to Minho’s, attentively watching how the elder passed through several emotions in a matter of seconds. The features settled on concern.

It had to be the _ one _ emotion that Jisung was _ really _uncomfortable being on the receiving end of. He struggled to manage the only physical responses he could at the time:

The first being relaxing his arms onto his stomach while simultaneously tightening his grip around Minho’s thumbs.

The second was more involuntary than anything; but still, it let Minho know he had heard _ and actually understood _his pleads: tears fell.

“Oh, Ji. None of that. You’ll just tire yourself out more.” Minho jiggled their hands, hoping the emotional highs and lows wouldn’t continue into the night. 

Minho’s phone vibrated, startling them both.

“It’s from Changbin.”

Pulling a hand away, he picked up his phone. Aware Jisung’s frown deepened at the loss, Minho left the hand on Jisung’s closer side attached. He squeezed the fingers as a reminder that he was still beside the younger.

The message surprised Minho, but part of him had been expecting it. The boys, while mature and supportive of each other, had always been bad at staying apart. Whatever knowledge one had was always shared with the rest, like they were eight branches bound together by one solid connection. And when there was pain in any of them- they all felt it. 

_ Looks like our twenty minutes has been up for a while. _

Putting his phone down, Minho shook their hands again. Jisung was still looking at him, expressionless. The color was (very) slowly coming back, the red contrasting the almost translucent white covering the rest of Jisung’s body. 

Minho smiled, a small action that he hoped would help eliminate any pessimistic assumptions Jisung held about the message. “It seems that you have a friend who’s really worried about you, Ji. Lix wants to know if he can come in. Changbin ‘promises he won’t be a bother and if his presence ends up not being wanted, he’ll immediately come retrieve him.’ It’s up to you, Ji.” Minho chuckled at Changbin’s words, but kept his voice otherwise serious- not wanting to influence Jisung’s decision.

Though he was scared of _ anyone _ seeing him like this, it was _ Felix. _ His twin. The boy was practically his soulmate. In his every part of his heart, Jisung knew Felix wouldn’t judge him.

With another exhausting burst of energy, Jisung manipulated his free hand into a limp thumbs up.

“Okay.” 

_ I think I’m going to ban that word, later. _

Minho patted his thumb, before texting the answer to Changbin.

A minute later, the door cracked open and an orange feline slunk in. The movements were controlled; it was almost possible to feel the anxiety rippling from the cat’s body.

Minho’s loose hand had found its way back into Jisung’s hair, lightly scratching at his scalp.

“Hey, Lix.”

Understanding flashed through Jisung’s brain when Minho bent down to his ear and added: “he came as a cat because he thought it’d be… less scary.” 

Being the first time that Jisung was _ really _interacting with one of them after finding out, it was a very important moment for all the boys. Minho was there in case it went badly; and Changbin was undoubtedly lurking outside with his head pressed against the door, waiting for any sign of rejection. 

Felix sauntered up to them, pausing at Jisung’s feet to meow quietly at Minho. 

It was a move filled with courtesy. 

Minho, in both human and feline senses, was Felix’s superior. And Jisung was currently _ very much _ his charge. Felix was doing the right thing by asking for permission to enter the area- to touch both him _ and _Jisung.

Minho hummed in response, his attention still fully locked onto Jisung.

“Go ahead.”

Felix crept forward, body low to the ground, tail sweeping across the ground slowly. His nose pushed at Jisung’s side, simply sniffing the area to figure out how he should proceed.

Though Jisung’s eyes were trying to follow the cat’s actions, curious, the strain was causing him to go cross-eyed so he simply returned his gaze to Minho. The elder’s presence was typically suffocating; but now, Jisung found it to be a safe zone. A reminder that nothing could harm him unless it got through the seemingly inexhaustible strength of the boy next to him.

Felix leapt into the box created by Minho’s forearms and the younger’s body. Cautious as ever, the tabby licked a stripe up Jisung’s cheek before settling his head into the crook of the boy’s neck.

Jisung wanted to giggle and nuzzle into the soft fur, but his body only let him crack a small smile.

They all appreciated the silence: Minho’s fingers moving in small circles and Felix’s small breaths warming Jisung’s neck. It allowed Jisung the opportunity to calm down and gather much needed strength.

“Whe-” cough. Felix moved his head to nose against Jisung’s struggling neck. The feeling tickled, causing Jisung to jolt away from the wetness. “wHERE’S every.. one?”

Minho, who had fallen into a daze, thanks to the mesmerizing pattern of the boys’ breathing, froze at the broken question. He only caught the ‘everyone’, but figured the most obvious question would be the one Jisung chose to ask. He was right.

“Out in the cafe.”

_ The cafe. The door. The glass. _Horrific images made Jisung’s breathing catch before he had the chance to suppress them. He still managed to force out another sentence: “can they… come?... here?”

The hand in Jisung’s hair disappeared, once again, as Minho picked up his phone- immediately responding to the boy’s request.

“They’ll be in, in a minute. Do you want anything, Ji? Water? A snack? More pillows?”

Jisung flipped his thumbs up over.

“Okay. If you change your mind, let me know.” Felix chirped, indignant. “Or, anyone else, Ji. We’re all here for… with you.” The cat nuzzled back into Jisung’s neck, now purring.

Changbin entered first, a tentative knock followed by a tousled, brown hair poking around the door. He’d been around long enough to know the proper customs. The younger met Minho’s expectant eyes across the room. 

“Can we come in?” They’d already gotten permission, technically, but verbal- as with everything- was the best viable confirmation.

Minho glanced down at Jisung once more. He found no traces of repulsion to the question; and the grip around his hand hadn’t changed. In fact, Jisung had managed to turn his head towards the door, wanting to visually confirm that everyone was okay. No red flags. Felix wasn’t alerted, either; and _ his _nose could actually pick up on subtle chemical changes in the human’s body.

Looking back up, Minho nodded. 

“Don’t be loud. Come in.”

Relief flooded Changbin’s features as he pushed the door open for the rest. This time, there were two less humans.

Seungmin followed Jeongin, the youngest barely managing to shuffle across the blankets before collapsing face first into his designated pile. Seungmin huffed at the roughness Jeongin treated himself with; though he couldn’t do much about it considering the striped ball of fluff he held in his arms. 

Hyunjin was far more ..spacious.. than any cat Jisung ever remembered seeing. It was obvious that he was sleeping- or close to being so- from the way he was completely sprawled out, upside down, in Seungmin’s arms. The red head carefully lowered them to the floor, placing Hyunjin between him and Jeongin before throwing a leg and arm over the youngest.

Changbin settled down after rearranging some of the padding; meticulously folding the blanket that Minho had thrown away earlier and placing it on the ground behind Jisung’s head. The younger’s eyes followed the actions with blatant unhappiness. 

Minho caught the change in expression and jiggled their hands slightly. Jisung turned back to him, pout still intact. “Do you want the blanket?”

The thumbs up returned.

Refusing to _ completely _ leave the boy, Minho tightened his grip on the hand over Jisung’s abdomen while using his other hand away to spread the light blanket over Jisung’s legs. He didn’t tuck in the ends, for fear of Jisung feeling trapped once again, but Minho ensured every part of the younger’s lower body was covered.

When his hand returned to the hair, Jisung smiled. It didn’t completely reach his eyes, but it was a start. A big step in the right direction. Minho felt the expression mirror on his own face, before becoming distracted by two paws landing on his knee.

Woojin was pawing insistently at the cold skin, claws just present enough to make the sensation uncomfortable. It was rare- and somewhat alarming- to see the eldest in his cat form. _ Especially, _ when Chan had just entered the room _ as a human. _

_ Today must’ve been rough for him. _

Unlike the rest, Woojin typically only gave into his cat when he needed it to keep up with Chan’s. Over the years, the blonde had worked wonders for helping Woojin become more comfortable with his other half; though, now, he only turned for stress relief. Minho could empathize. The way that his animal brain tended prioritize life differently took away so many worries and confusions. It made everything so much easier. Like a drug. Which is why many of the others never understood Woojin’s reluctance to shift.

Currently, Woojin was asking for permission. Most would believe it to be an odd act given that he was older than Minho. But the three eldest felines had a strange relationship with power in that they never fought for superiority. Instead: Woojin, Chan, and Minho all acknowledged that their strengths and skill sets were all different and it would be best if they take charge accordingly given the situation. 

And, right now, Minho was in control. _ His _ cafe. _ His boys. His _ boy.

Minho checked in with Ji, who was much more attentive than earlier, before nodding at the cat.

In a single fluid motion, Woojin leapt over Minho’s lap. He was flicked with the eldest’s thin tail and licked in the same spot, before the cat wrapped himself around Jisung’s head. Same as Felix, Woojin pressed his nose into Jisung’s neck- placing a short lick there before curling up.

Rather than let his hand be locked in Jisung’s hair, Minho pulled away. Jisung immediately whined, alarming everyone in the room who wasn’t aware of what had just happened. The cats around Jisung’s neck only nestled in further, letting their own pained whines resonate with Jisung’s. Without either feline’s conscious effort, their tails intertwined and came to rest, creating a full ring of fur around the human’s head.

As if it wasn’t bad enough dealing with _ one _whiny boy, now two of his friends were joining, too.

Chan was still standing, paused in the path he’d been taking to making to lie next to Changbin. It’d been a long day and none of them deserved to sleep alone. Still, he was frozen, trying to figure out whether what had caused the sound.

Minho waved him off nonchalantly. They all needed to sleep. 

The sooner Jisung was able to thoroughly calm down, the sooner he’d recover. 

Decision made, Minho slid down into his blankets. He pulled one of his pillows closer to the younger, very much aware of the pleading puppy eyes he was receiving over Felix’s body. Minho silently thanked Seungmin for helping him build up a _ strong _ resistance to such an attack.

Head now resting comfortably, Minho was able to relax. Finally, his stitches weren’t being mashed into each other.

Jisung was still looking at him.

Minho mocked his expression, playfully, before rearranging their arms so that Jisung’s hand was intertwined between both of his.

“I’ll be right here if you need anything. Get some sleep.”

Jisung’s face transformed into a relieved smile. This time, it reached his eyes. Jisung had no idea what occurred outside of the room, but it was most important that _ all nine _ of them were present and healthy. 

Well. Intact, at least, in the cases of him and Minho.

Chan settled between Changbin and Jisung, his body coming to rest mostly on top of the former. Changbin didn’t seem to mind at all; almost asleep, he turned into the warmth with a groan and latched onto Chan’s waist with practiced ease.

Jisung hummed a happy note, nuzzling into the fur of both cats while wiggling his fingers in Minho’s hands.

“Good night, Ji.”

“N-ight.”


	34. [33]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jeongin is the last!  
Primary: Seungmin, Hyunjin  
Platonic: Felix, Jisung  
OOf. Welcome. Have fun. Enjoy. This uh... yeah. I'll let it speak for itself.
> 
> °˖✧◝(⁰▿⁰)◜✧˖°

The second time Jisung awoke, he was surrounded by bodies.

The experience was completely opposite the last: the room dully lit, the morning sun peeking around the edges of the curtains with a soft serenity. There were no threatening sounds or imposing bad feelings; no trickles of dread climbing up his spine. 

Minho, with all his injuries, was curled into his right side, arms tightly clinging around the nearest of Jisung's- adamantly keeping their hands intertwined. Occasionally, there would be a creak from the outside wind and Minho would flinch closer, as if the injured boy could protect him from nature’s wrath. At some point throughout the night, their two blankets had become one and Woojin had slipped between them, the slim cat’s body radiating a comforting heat.

Felix had disappeared from around his neck; though he hadn’t left completely. The very end of the tabby's tail was faintly tickling Jisung's left ear. 

The most unsurprising part was that Chan being the only other one awake. The blond was sitting up, legs spread wide to accommodate the bodies between them. 

Jisung nearly cooed at the sight. 

Changbin was curled up in a fetal position, body facing Jisung, with his arms locking Felix's cat body against his own. His face was barely visible since he’d pulled up his fuzzy black blanket so high; but Jisung could see the very tip of his nose pressed into the ball of orange fur. Chan had a hand in the boy's messed, dark hair; casually rearranging the loose waves as he scrolled through his phone.

On the complete other side of the room, Seungmin was swamped under Hyunjin and Jeongin. The cat was laying over his throat, fluffy tail creating a loop around the boy's head. Jeongin was blanketing the rest of Seungmin’s body, pressing their fronts together happily as the bottom circled his arms around the youngest's upper back. Their blankets were long forgotten; a large wad of fabric at their feet.

All in all, it was the happiest and most serene they had the opportunity to be in a  _ long _ time. 

Jisung, unwilling to move so early, merely closed his eyes and settled into the warmth with a wide smile. His consciousness didn't go unnoticed. 

Chan smiled fondly at the positivity Jisung emitted after awakening a second time. Part of him hadn’t allowed himself to sleep for long in case Jisung woke with nightmares once again. No doubt, Minho would wake up and be capable of handling the issue. But the two boys were injured and needed as much rest as possible. Plus- Chan was never good at sleeping, anyway. So, he had gotten a few hours before pulling the most nightmare-prone boy (Changbin) against him.

Changbin had been silent most of the night, especially after Felix moved to be by him, but a few worrying syllables had slipped from his mouth and there had been a few minutes of heavy breathing. Chan’s constant reassurance eventually lulled the human back to sleep.

Jisung, though more quiet, hadn’t been much different. Shortly after Chan had gotten up, Jisung had started sweating, thrashing against the blankets. It was enough to stir Minho, but not enough to wake the rest. That had been the point where their two blankets had become one and Minho had  _ really  _ latched onto Jisung.

Setting his phone down quietly, Chan slipped the free hand slipped into Jisung’s hair, lazily rearranging the nest that was undoubtedly awaiting taming.

"Go back to sleep, Sungie."

And sleep he did.

Until he woke, later, to the smell of bacon. Because who can resist bacon? 

Not Han Jisung.

The only ones left in the room were Woojin- still in his cat form- and Jisung. He’d been bundled up at some point; blankets and pillows stacked up as if someone had tried to create a fortress around his body.

Somewhere on the other side of the room, a curtain was cracked open- allowing just enough light through that Jisung wasn’t completely blind.

Rather than the muffled clinking and conversations on the other side of the door, it was Woojin’s insistent pawing that brought him to full consciousness. Though, the meat was  _ definitely  _ the cherry on top that didn’t let Jisung turn over and hide his body away from the increasingly annoying cat.

Woojin slowly crept up his back, paws kneading into the bruise that had yet to heal. Jisung drew in a sharp hiss as a claw  _ slightly _ touched the tender area. Woojin froze, replying with a thin whine.  _ I didn’t mean to hurt you. Are you okay? _

Jisung had been around the eldest enough to know his intentions weren’t malicious.

“I’m okay.” It didn’t sound very convincing- even to Jisung. He repeated the statement, in an effort to convince himself of its truth: “I’m okay.” 

Woojin hadn’t been trying to hurt him. Woojin would never knowingly hurt him. Woojin had  _ protected his life _ yesterday. Pain didn’t mean something was life threatening. It was only a reminder of what was still present and healing.  _ I’m okay. _

Jisung could feel Woojin slink off of his back and hear him move up to his head. A hesitant lick was placed on the shell of his ear, making Jisung jerk his head up in a shocked, still-too-early-to-process, knee-jerk reaction. It took a couple of seconds to truly understand the cat- he may have interacted with many strays before, but  _ this  _ was so much different. So much more intimate.

The way that Woojin stared, unblinking, at Jisung- tail slowly sweeping behind him- was so… real. Woojin, though he was obviously  _ a cat, _ acted  _ human. _ His actions were calculated, cautious, and considerate. Each movement was filled with overflowing pride as if the elder knew exactly what he was doing and never felt the need to hesitate. 

His ears and tail twitched and reacted like an animal’s; but the glint in his eyes expressed everything human Woojin needed to. The brilliant orange held a depth that shouldn’t have been possible- a kaleidoscope of emotions and memories that were typically hidden. Though they were right in front of Jisung, it wasn’t as if he had the key to unlock any of the stories.  _ Maybe, later. _

It clicked, at last, that  _ this _ was  _ definitely  _ Woojin. The soul that had saved Jisung and opened his heart to help when things had gotten rough. Woojin. Woojin the beautifully slim and strong, gray furred, orange-eyed,  _ cat _ . Woojin the tall, sturdy, dependable, ever-aware, human. The beings were one, and the same.

Everything they had told Jisung... was real.

Changbin being the only human seemed weird. W_hy would a human chose to surround himself by…. Creatures? Alone?_ _Maybe he turns into something ugly and just doesn’t want me to know. That’s okay. _After seeing how the elder interacted with his twin: it was impossible that Jisung would think any lesser of the small boy- even if Changbin somehow turned into a bunny (or, a pig).

Jisung would stay, too.

Even if he was an oddball.

Even if he became one of the hunted by association.

He would stay for Minho. 

For all of them- if they allowed it.

Woojin waited patiently, sitting back to watch the emotions pass over Jisung’s face. If he’d have been human: he would have probably chuckled and flicked the younger’s forehead for thinking so hard, so early. But- Woojin wasn’t. The first few days around the boys would be critical for Jisung’s adaptation. The human needed time- so Woojin was more than willing to wait.

Somewhat embarrassed for having such a long internal commentary while being stared at- and unknowingly staring back- Jisung shoved his head back into the warmth of his pillow with a groan.

Afraid the human was going to hide all day- skip his meals and just generally spiral himself away from them- Woojin chirped and licked Jisung’s ear once again.  _ It’s going to be alright. Take it slow. _

Jisung, not quite willing to get up- despite catching another whiff of the smell drifting through the air- rolled to face the eldest. Woojin was still watching him.

Unsure of how to approach the situation, especially since he was barely awake enough to form full sentences, Jisung just let out the thoughts in his head. He did it a lot when he was stressed. They were just going to have to get used to it.

“ _ What? _ What is it? Why are you looking at me? And- where is everyone else? What time is it? Did I miss breakfast? Where-” Woojin interrupted the rambling, chirping amusedly (again) as he closed the short distance between them. His tail was far more animated- flicking through the air like a windshield wiper. The next movement was incredibly slow, as if Woojin was making sure Jisung’s slowed brain could keep up- and push him away if his actions were unwanted. 

The cat stopped right at his throat. Not quite touching, though Jisung could feel the familiar heat pushing into his skin nonetheless. A quick (irrational) realization of how much damage could possibly done from their position had Jisung tensing up, hands clenching into fists. 

The teeth. 

The  _ claws. _

The oxygen running out.

The unending streams of blood. 

_ The hands wrapped around his neck.  _

Woojin, sensing his distress, didn’t move any further.

His eyes were now shut, face screwed up in a tight frown. Jisung recognized and caught the thoughts before they could grow worse:  _ breathe. It’s just Woojin-hyung.  _ He’s  _ not here. It’s just Hyung. Breeeeathe. _

Eventually, Jisung was able to relax. 

His eyes opened to meet Woojin’s silent, concerned pout. The cat hadn’t physically moved away, despite the way he was leant back to observe Jisung’s internal struggles.  _ Did he think I’m going to hurt him? Should he see a therapist? Is this going to be some sort of recurring nightmare- even when he’s awake? I need to talk to Chan and Minho about this later.. _

Coming down from his panic, Jisung exhaled a long breath. Uncurling his fingers, he brought his hand up to run it through the seemingly soft fur- in hopes to reassure them both. But, he froze midair as the earlier scenes of each boy asking Minho’s permission flashed through his mind. 

How did it work if Woojin was his hyung, a cat that couldn’t speak,  _ and  _ they’d never talked about things like this? How was Jisung supposed to proceed?

“Can I… touch? You?” The simple question came out awkward and shaky. “Is it rude... if I ask to ...pet.. you? Is that weird?”  _ They said something about shifting and mates being special, but what about general physical contact? _ Was that limited, too? The boys all seemed pretty open, but this was a new world for Jisung. He didn’t want to screw it up on his first day. Jeongin never minded being held or carried- but Woojin was his hyung. 

_ Is it different? What if I do something wrong? What if I make him mad an- _

Woojin snorted in his face. 

Tail still whipping, the eldest nosed at Jisung’s throat before placing kitten licks over the blossoming bruises.

The tongue was wet and a little harsh, but the notion lightened Jisung’s mood instantly. This was his  _ Woojin-hyung. _ If he didn’t like something- he could certainly stop it from occurring. And Jisung would undoubtedly follow his lead.

Carefully, as to not startle the distracted feline, Jisung ran his finger tips down Woojin’s spine. Each indentation further confirmed that his hyung was  _ definitely  _ a cat; real, soft, lethal- and caring. 

A few moments passed, the licks still ongoing, and Jisung got a little braver. 

He was focused on the rising that occurred with each of the cat’s calm breath cycles. And then, something mystical happened and Jisung stopped his ministrations, completely awestruck.

Woojin started purring.

The low vibrations flowed into Jisung’s hand and his neck, causing the tickling to increase in intensity. Without thinking about the consequences, he giggled and resumed his long, petting strokes.

They stayed that way until the door opened and a blonde head poked through. The hair blended into the bright light flooding the dark room, causing Jisung to strain to see who it was.

“I knew it. You were supposed to get him out here for breakfast- and here you are! You’re such a sucker.” Only slightly irritated, Chan huffed, hands on his hips as he crossed the room to kneel next to the pair. He caught Jisung’s startled gaze-  _ Did I do something wrong? _ Maybe he was supposed to ask for  _ Chan’s _ permission when it came to Woojin?- and softened. “Awh. Sungie. Don’t be scared- it’s not you I’m annoyed with. You’ve barely been around Woojinnie and you’ve already found his weakness.” The elder rolled his eyes fondly at the still purring feline. “Breakfast was done thirty minutes ago and  _ this little monster _ was supposed to come get you. I  _ told  _ Minho it wouldn’t work.” Chan shook his head, frustration dissipating more with each passing second.

Woojin stopped licking to turn and leap out of Jisung’s reach. Somehow, he managed to clear the wall of padding and land directly onto Chan’s chest- nearly knocking the boy backwards. His claws sunk in as he clung to his partner, nuzzling happily right into the crook of the human’s neck.

Chan sighed, a long sound of defeat. His hand came up to cradle the body, holding Woojin against him so that the claws could retract.

“He hasn’t been like this in a while, so forgive him? It’s cute, anyway~” Chan rubbed his cheek into the gray fur, imitating the purring (which had increased tenfold since the moment Chan began touching had touched the cat).

Jisung blushed. Though, he was unsure of whether it was a result of witnessing the couple’s affection; or, from realizing that the two bodies seemed to mold perfectly together- regardless of their forms.

Less easier to distract than the eldest, at least in human form, Chan was quick to get back to the point. With his free hand, he cleared the stacks around Jisung’s body. The younger, though sore, managed to sit up and help get rid of the remaining few.

Jisung’s leg was  _ still  _ throbbing-  _ is it broken? A sprain shouldn’t hurt this much, right? _ \- at the same intensity of the past days. Maybe worse, if that was possible. The wrap was still around it, a consistently tight pressure. Even with his sleep-bleary eyes, it almost looked to have swollen more. 

_Great._ _And I still have to go get a doctor’s note before Monday…_

With the deadline being Monday, Jisung still had three whole days before he faced the inevitable, dreaded meeting with Ms. Jeong. He frowned at the thought of having to explain his situation to some random professional. But one (the doctor), would be  _ far  _ better than a whole series of interrogations (child services and applicable academic committees).

Someone like him, who couldn’t even afford a single pair of socks,  _ surely  _ didn’t deserve to be in their school. They probably wouldn’t believe his unfortunate encounters, anyway, given that he had began showing up to school resembling something  _ actually  _ alive, not an animated corpse. 

Jisung could hear the accusations, already: he  _ had _ to have  _ some sort _ of connections. 

Some random family member(s) that had discovered him and taken Jisung under their wings. An uncle? A once-removed aunt? 

Was a neighbor taking pity- could they talk to  _ them,  _ instead? 

Where was he living? 

How did he manage meals? 

Where did he sleep? 

Where did his uniform and school supplies come from?

Why did he spend such long hours in the music lab?

How did he keep such good grades if he was barely conscious enough during his classes to take his tests?

A heavily body literally knocked Jisung out of his thoughts.

Startled, Jisung fell backwards. His field of vision was largely blocked by Woojin’s gray fur, laying across his chest. The cat was growling, offended, as if he could sense Jisung’s inner turmoil. Nasty morning breath flowed directly up Jisung’s nose. Were he not concerned with the state of his body, Jisung might’ve laughed and swatted the eldest away.

Instead, a pained exhale had Chan’s amusement fading into concern as he bent closer to the younger. He lifted Woojin away, delicately placing the cat on the ground.

“Sungie, what hurts? What’s wrong Is it your ankle?” 

_ Minho’s still the only one that knows about- “ _ My back.”

The words were out before Jisung could stop them. 

He watched the confusion flicker through both of their expressions-  _ when did he hurt his back? Was it a new injury? Did it happen earlier- were they too late to stop it? Did they miss it, somehow? _

“Can I see?” 

Wordlessly, Jisung rolled back to his original sleeping position. Chan’s knees were tucked, right next to his ribs, allowing the elder the perfect access to lift the white shirt up. The imprint of a footprint was clear- right in the middle of Jisung’s back- a shape that was nearly a beautiful rainbow, if the action that caused it hadn’t been so disgusting.

Unable (or, unwilling?) to restrain his instincts, Woojin let out a high whine before resting his head on the bare skin. The warmth was welcomed.

Jisung felt strangely calm about the situation. Detached- he wasn’t thinking about how the elder’s saw him. Saw  _ it. _ It didn’t matter what they thought about how it had been caused; Jisung was floating in a juxtaposed nothingness of warmth and cold interrupted by slight, prodding pressures.

Chan was running his fingers over Jisung’s back, not directly on the colors but in the areas around to check for any broken parts. Thankfully- the bones all seemed to be intact. 

Jisung was incredibly lucky.

The exploration was so gentle that it sent the younger into a dazed, light unconsciousness. Utterly pliant under his hands, Chan was able to scoop Jisung into his arms and bring him to the breakfast table, without complaint, before he came back to the present.

Woojin padded along, leaping into Chan’s lap the exact second that he settled into his seat next to Jisung.

Minho, as always, was attentive and watching Jisung’s every action- and lack thereof- from the opposite side of the table. The color had returned to his cheeks, a look that Jisung vaguely realized he’d missed seeing.

Back to his human form, Felix was tiredly draped over Changbin- who had swapped seats with Jeongin. His twin was considerably more wake than Jeongin had been after switching. Jisung could immediately tell that the limp posturing was purely a childish method of seeking attention; the boy was awake enough to eagerly accept every forkful that the elder was feeding him from their shared plate.

Jeongin and Seungmin were fighting over rolls from across the table; Hyunjin nowhere to be seen. With the ferocity of their fighting, it wouldn’t have surprised anyone if Minho had been collateral damage at least twice, already. 

A meow from his left caught Jisung’s attention. It didn’t match any of the tones he had encountered, so far. But, sitting near the bottom of his chair: a fluffy (freshly-groomed?) calico was trying to catch the attention of the feline in Chan’s lap.

And failing to. But, not for lack of effort.

Chan pretended to pay the two no mind, his fingers continuing to thread through Woojin’s fur. His actions might have pleaded ignorance, but the grin and sparkle in his eyes clearly gave Chan away. And, more importantly, whose side he was playing on.

The volume of the meows grew, repeating in a clockwork-like rhythm, slowly sparking annoyance throughout the entire table. Even the youngest two had paused in their bickering to watch the events unfold.

As usual, Minho was the one to speak first:

“Woojin.” The tone was chastising and playful, but serious at the same time.  _ Knock it off. _

When the sounds didn’t stop, Minho sighed and added: “Hyunjin.” This time, the name was an obvious signal. A warning: cease and desist.

The tabby’s ears immediately flattened, disappointed that he wasn’t able to get the attention he craved. Pitifully slinking away, the dejected feline crawled up to his empty chair and curled up into a tight ball, facing away from the table.

His two partners watched along, thoroughly unconcerned and amused. Seungmin patted Hyunjin on the head, mockingly sympathetic. Jeongin merely shook his head at the sight and happily dug into the roll he had won thanks to Seungmin’s diverted attention.

The moment Seungmin withdrew his hand, Woojin leapt out of Chan’s lap- landing directly over the tabby. His body was larger, despite Hyunjin taking up more space (thanks to his long fur). With a quick nip at Hyunjin’s neck, Woojin settled around the younger’s body, head lying in the small space left next to Hyunjin’s.

Chan smiled, petting them both with a knowing eye roll. Somehow, the blonde had known Woojin was waiting the younger out. Like a game of cat and mouse- how long would Hyunjin wait- and complain for- until he gave up on receiving attention? 

Apparently, long enough to annoy everyone else.

A plate was pushed in front of Jisung, portioned out so that there was a little bit of everything: waffles, eggs, fresh fruit, and the best-  _ bacon.  _ There were only a few spoonfuls of each, just enough to be filling but not overwhelming.

“I hope it’s not too cold by now.” Felix, head still rested on Changbin’s shoulder, sent a lazy smile in Jisung’s direction.

Jisung’s hands hovered over the plate, testing the temperature. There was still a faint heat under the appropriate foods.

Reciprocating the small smile, Jisung nodded his head in thanks. Even if the plate had been frozen, his reply would’ve been the same; because  _ someone _ had thought about him when he hadn’t even been present: 

“It’s perfect. Thank you.”

Chan had already created and demolished one plate’s worth and was digging into his second’s with a gleeful hum.

_ I have no idea how he eats that much. _

Catching Minho’s gaze, Jisung blushed and focused on eating small bites off of his plate.

They had spent so much time together- time in close proximity- yet Jisung couldn’t manage to act normally when they were four chairs apart at breakfast.  _ What’s wrong with me? _ There was just something about the elder that constantly set him on edge; an unfamiliar feeling that Jisung didn’t know how to act upon- or if it was worth acknowledging at all. 

Something  _ that  _ distracting could only end one of two ways: ruin or ecstasy. 

Minho had given him so much. Without judgement or harsh stares. He’d taken care of Jisung during arguably the worst times of his life, and thought of him no less for it. 

So. Why was he having such a difficult time,  _ now? _

The mix of emotions flooding Jisung’s body was new. Foreign. But, not uncomfortable:

Shameful regret.  _ Why does he continue to burden them with his presence? _

Tentative happiness.  _ What if they change his life forever? What if  _ he _ changes  _ theirs?  _ Will it be for the better? the worse? _

Willful ignorance.  _ If Jisung could ignore the pain and the hunters- he couldn’t be harmed any further. Mind over matter. _

Shy intrigue.  _ What kind of relationships are the boys fostering? None seem to be of the norm. What place does Jisung have among them? _

Staggering fear.  _ On Monday, what will happen? _

Unwavering trust.  _ If something  _ does  _ happen: they will have his back. It’s already been proven time, and time again. _

Anyone could see the emotions hanging from Jisung. He never had a reason to hide them. Still didn’t. But that same bravery and self-confidence didn’t quite encompass the realm of having to explain himself. Just like the bruise- it was fine if others saw, as long as they didn’t ask the ‘whys’ or the ‘hows’.

Breakfast passed. 

Jisung’s head stayed in the clouds. The table was cleared, just like his plate, without Jisung fully noticing.

When Minho took up Felix’s seat, his body leant towards Jisung, the younger jolted. He hadn’t even been lost in thought. Just- lost. Floating. Present, but not.

“Welcome back.” 

Though the words were light, the look on Minho’s face was anything but.

Voice unused all morning, the reply came out low and scratchy: “thanks.” The word was heavier than intended and Jisung didn’t realize until he said it that it held more meaning than a simple retort.

Clearing his throat, Jisung forced himself to look into the elder’s eyes before reiterating: “Really. Thank you for everything.”

“Daaaaadddsss!! They’re being mushy! It’s too earrrllyyyyyyy! Somebody stop them!!” 

Jeongin’s cries were followed by Chan sticking his head out of the kitchen, hair filled with soapy bubbles. It looked like he’d been walking, head first, through a car wash.

“At least  _ someone  _ recognizes us  _ both _ as dads.” The blonde glared at the back of Minho’s head. “How about you come help us, Innie? If you have the time to complain?” Chan crooked his head back towards the kitchen in an invite. The smirk on his face was terrifyingly antagonist. It sent chills down Jisung’s spine, making him shudder.

The youngest scowled, extremely repulsed at the proposition. “And watch you and dad number two turn the place into a clothless foam party? I think not.”

Chan’s face lit up, bright red. All leverage lost after two sentences from their maknae. Before he could gather his wits to retort, Chan was surreptitiously pulled back into the kitchen with a high screech.

“No children allowed!” Seungmin was pushed (thrown?) through the doors, also drenched in bubbles, by Woojin who wore a cheshire grin. “_I’m_ _number two?_ I guess we’ll have to see about that, huh? Won’t we Channie?” Jisung blanched as the eldest spun around and dragged a giggling Chan with him, back into the kitchen. 

He’d been in an apron. 

Only an apron.

Minho, not one to lose any chances to poke fun at Jisung, smirked. An eyebrow cocked, hands crossed over his chest, the boy sat back in his chair.

“What? Never seen cheeks so fine?”

It would’ve been better if Jisung hadn’t eaten that morning.

Woojin and Chan still in the kitchen, Jisung and Minho were washing up in the bathroom. Changbin had left a napping Felix alone in the conference room to help the two crippled boys down the hall. 

Jisung had originally gestured for Minho to go first- it was his cafe, after all, Jisung could wait outside until he was done. But, the elder had quickly waved him off, to Changbin’s utter amusement, with a nonchalant “why don’t we go in together?”

Changbin abandoned Jisung. 

Left him, injured, sitting on the ground in the den of a lion; weak to the irresistible coaxing of “come on, it’ll be warmer than the hall.”

Alone, both of them in minimal clothing, and shivering once again: Jisung was nothing other than miserable.

Minho must’ve noticed, not that it was incredibly difficult to. But, this time, there was no Midnight to distract Jisung with.

With a frown, a light bulb went off in Minho’s head. Opening the door, he stuck his head out, yelled “bring us some actual clothes!”, and shut the door with a soft click.

His voice was considerably more soft as he addressed Jisung, who was curling into a tighter ball with every passing minute: “Why don’t you shower first? You’re shaking.”

Running his hands over his limbs, Jisung shook his head. “It’s your place. You first. I’ll wash up out here while you’re showering. Really. It’s no iss-”

Rather than let Jisung suffer for ‘his sake’, Minho sat down next to the boy and gently brought Jisung’s injured ankle to rest on his knee. Their frowns were identical in depth. Both dissatisfied  _ and  _ self-sacrificing to a fault.

Before he’d gathered enough wits to fully protest, Jisung’s ankle was unwrapped. Bulging and ugly; colorful lumps were protruding in places they  _ definitely  _ were not meant to be. 

“Minh-”

Minho cut him off. The hand that had been stabilizing his leg tightened, a reflection of the rising tension in the elder’s body. “Jisung. Why didn’t you say anything?”

Staring at the counter, the towel rack, the shower curtain,  _ anywhere that wasn’t Minho-  _ Jisung bit his lip.

“Jisung.” His voice shook. Hand tightened more even though, since they’d met, Minho had been doing his best not to hurt the younger. To be the only one that never did.

Minho was scared. 

For the first time in  _ a long time _ , Lee Minho was absolutely frightened.

The younger’s foot looked more like a distorted set of small water balloons than it did a functioning body part. Ice cold in some places and blisteringly hot in others. Minho couldn’t even begin to comprehend how Jisung wasn’t  _ constantly  _ wailing in pain. If it were him, he would’ve been clinging to all of the boys and  _ insisting  _ to see a doctor- no matter how much he actually dislikes medical environments.

“We’re going to see a doctor. Today.” 

No room for argument. No isolation, either though. There was an underlying current with the words. One that Jisung’s body picked up on before his brain could fully comprehend it.

The whine that left Jisung sounded all too familiar to Minho. The sound he’d heard from cornered animals. Ones that felt like all was lost and felt like everything completely hopeless. The tortured and abused. It tore his soul to shreds.

Hurriedly, Minho placed Jisung’s leg back on the ground, before shifting so that he was kneeling between Jisung’s legs. The boy was still avoiding his eyes and shaking. His cheeks were becoming increasingly flushed- a dead give away of impending tears.

“Oh, Ji.” 

It vaguely surprised Minho how close to crying  _ he _ sounded. But this was  _ Jisung-  _ everything was heightened with him. Even the danger.

Lightly, as if testing the waters, Minho laid one hand over Jisung’s bent knee to steady himself. Waiting to see if he was going to be pushed away, Minho held his breath. Jisung didn’t even flinch at his presence. It was like the younger became a statue. Unresponsive. 

Taking a chance, Minho reached out to cup Jisung’s pink cheek with his free hand. The smallest of responses, the widening of Jisung’s pupils, reassured the elder that Jisung was still with him, even if he was hiding in his own body. 

“Jisung. I promise.” Their gazes met, one far more distant than the other. “I promise that it’ll be okay. I’ll be with you. If you want me to be- I’ll be there.”

“You can’t guarantee that.” The tentative argument was so quiet that Minho had to lean in to hear it.

“I-”

Jisung talked over him, the words coming out harsh, this time: “Don’t say what you don’t mean.” He was annoyed. Even if it wasn’t an emotion created by Minho- it was being directed at him since he was the only outlet, currently. “It’s probably broke.” 

Shaking his head and opening his eyes- where all traces of tears had disappeared- Jisung pulled back from Minho’s palm. The younger’s expression was schooled into a very tight nothingness. 

“Why don’t you get in the shower?”

“ _ No.”  _ The word came out too sharp, making them both flinch. Minho couldn’t afford to be oppressive and demanding. Not now. Not with Jisung.

After a deep breath, Minho recentered and continued in a voice far more gentle: “Don’t do this. Ji-  _ Sunshine.  _ Trust me. Trust  _ us. _ Stop putting up walls and let us take care of you. You know we will. Just…” Jisung looked away, blatantly avoiding the honesty that Minho’s slow and cautious words were trying to get through to him.

“Why?”

The question was clear and unwavering. The intensity mildly surprised Minho, but he quickly gathered himself at the thought of getting the chance to see into Jisung’s psyche.

Minho removed his hands and sat down, legs tucked into his chest. Though he was as far away from Jisung as the cabinets allowed, their feet were practically intertwined. 

The position wasn’t very comfortable. At all. Quite honestly, the stitches and wound were being pressed together and it was making it difficult to breathe. But for the moment that was inevitably about to come- it was worth all of the pain. 

To rid Jisung from the burden of eye contact when he had  _ finally _ decided to open up, Minho wrapped his arms around his legs and laid his forehead down. His skin was unpleasantly cold, but Minho found that he didn’t mind the smell that radiated from it. His and Jisung’s. It was somewhat interrupted by the smell of Chan’s soaps the younger occasionally used,  _ but it was there. _ Minho smiled to himself. 

He didn’t pull away when Jisung’s uninjured leg pressed into the outside of his. The warmth between them grew instantly and became something that they could both focus on.

“Why, what?”

The response tumbled out of the younger, the already weak dam breaking at Minho’s request. As if the worst jenga block had been pulled.  _ He asked for it. _

Whatever happened after would be up to the elder. Like everything else already was.

“Why… everything? Why  _ me? _ Why now? Why…  _ you? _ Why do you care? Why are you doing this? Why are we here? Why are you injured? Why do the boys all act like they’re… all…….? It isn’t my business but… Why? Why is all this happening? Why does any of this matt-”

Jisung’s shaking was increasing with each question, like the words were being born from an earthquake within him. Minho’s leg was vibrating due to their point of contact.

He nodded into his arms. Maybe Jisung was watching  _ him in a way  _ as attentive as Minho always watched  _ him.  _ “Okay. Okay. I hear you- but one at a time. I can’t answer your questions if I can’ t understand them.” He had to speak a little louder since the words were directed at the floor. It would have normally been too loud for a casual setting, but Minho didn’t care who heard his words, even if they were only meant for Jisung’s ears.

In contrast, Jisung’s next question was nearly quieter than the slight whistle of air passing under the door.

“Why me?”

Of course, Jisung wouldn’t hold anything back once he’d been pushed hard enough. The hardest question first.

Minho, seeking the comfort and reassurance, raised an open palm to Jisung. He kept his head down, so it wasn’t possible for Minho to watch the conflict arise and disappear on Jisung’s face. After a slight pause- which nearly had Minho’s heart falling out of his chest- Jisung delicately placed his hand in Minho’s. Like a flower falling to the ground, the touch was barely perceivable.

Minho tightened his grip and lower their joined hands to hang in the space between their legs.

He shook his head, in a last-ditch-effort to force the doubts away. Uncharacteristically wary, Minho took in a deep breath before answering:

“Because you’re my soulmate.”


	35. [34]

“One of my soulmates, is more accurate, I guess.”

The younger was silent, watching the tension coiling in Minho’s posture, before he chuckled. Actually outright  _ laughing _ at the situation, unable to process it any other way. Maybe he’d truly lost it. “You guess?”

Jisung’s reaction was nothing even close to what Minho had expected: no (theoretical) claws or harsh negations. No running away. If anything, Jisung was more animated and conscious than he had been the entire morning.

As if the severity of the statement hadn’t hit him, he was taking the words suspiciously  _ too  _ well. As if Minho hadn’t just told him that they were destined to be together in this life time and every other once ever to exist. As if he didn’t realize he was bound, permanently, to boys he barely even knew.

It was Minho’s turn to hide.

The elder dropped his head back, eyes screwed shut, resting against the cabinets. The wood was grounding, even though the inanimate lifelessness made his art ache increase.

He was craving to be closer. To be pressed as tightly into Jisung as their bodies would allow. To silence the crying his soul had been experiencing since he’d realized the truth.

Really- it wasn’t him who was the first to be conscious of Jisung’s place in their lives. It was Chan. Always the most intuitive of the bunch,  _ Chan _ had realized the first night they took Jisung under their collective wing. He’d cried. The ache- which wasn’t as unbearable as the one he experienced with Woojin- was gone when Jisung was with them. When Jisung was happy and fed and well-rested. 

Now that the truth was out in the open: Minho was the one who wanted to cry. It felt right. How had he not noticed earlier? Minho wanted to cry at the world for treating Jisung terribly; at himself for not realizing the bond- for not accepting the reality of it faster; at Jisung. To cry and curl up and be told: “it’s okay to feel okay”. 

He wasn’t a flaw in society. He belonged. Belonged with someone.  _ To _ someone.

Because that’s how he felt when he was with Jisung. 

He hadn’t known what to expect from his soulmates. Watching those around him, he had learned quickly that the bond could be just as amazing as it could be poisonous. The boys had given him hope, but that  _ awful _ day they realized he was going to be ‘one of the unbonded’ was a memory that Minho would never forget.

Squeezing Jisung’s hand, he forced those thoughts away. They didn’t belong in the present. In his life. Jisung was here. Breathing and listening.  _ Waiting. _

Feeling caught up in his own emotions, Minho cradled Jisung’s hand between both of his. He probably looked like a crazy man, holding onto something so delicately with his head turned towards the ceiling. There wasn’t enough confidence in the words for him to look up and see what emotions were running through the other boy. His personal sun, heating up the entire room and nearly melting him just from holding hands.

Jisung didn’t push him away.

“I should’ve known from the moment I saw you.” 

_ It wasn’t love at first sight.  _

_ It still isn’t love. _

_ But, maybe it could be. _

Jisung hummed, patiently waiting for an explanation.  _ He has to be so confused. I don’t know what I would do if I were him. Probably run out screaming and set fire to the place.  _ Leave it to his soulmate to be calmly willing to deal with someone as emotionally constipated as Minho.

Pulling his hand back towards his body, Jisung startled the elder. Minho quickly hung on for dear life, enough pressure to stay connected without hurting Jisung. Still, he was dragged forward, nearly headbutting one of Jisung’s bent knees.

“Not what you were expecting, huh?”

Minho played into it, his face twisting into a serious, thoughtful expression. He looked Jisung up and down, purposely taking his time at the other’s face and practically skipping over his legs. Jisung flushed under the appraisal, but stubbornly maintained an antagonistic, raised eyebrow.

_ Whatever it takes to keep him here. _ With me.

“No.” 

Jisung wilted, tried to draw his body inwards into a ball. He hadn’t been expecting blatant agreement. Especially after the way Minho had said they were  _ soulmates _ with a voice filled with something resembling adoration. He should’ve known better.

“My soulmate is better than I expected.” They were looking at each other. Openly. For the first time: actually trying to understand the other. Minho pressed on, pushing as much honesty into his voice as possible: “way better. The best. There’s  _ no way _ he’s close to being my equal. He’s bright. And stubborn. Persevering. Independent. Hard working. He sleeps a lot and always seems to be injured… needs to be protected, too. Like a baby. Precious.” 

The declaration was bold. Minho was sure that he was stepping over  _ several _ boundaries. One of them would have to do it eventually. Minho was  _ far  _ more comfortable pouring his thoughts out in a rambled mess- get it all out in the open- than have an awkward rejection speech thrown in his face before they’d even gotten the chance to talk. 

At least this way, Jisung, who had lived such a rough life before finding them, would understand he was wanted. Appreciated. Cherished.

Jisung looked annoyed at the earlier comparison; but Minho was already prepared to placate the younger. It was like a tug of war- he wouldn’t give Jisung everything he wanted at once.  _ Couldn’t. _ Because then what would keep him at Minho’s side? 

“But, it’s funny. He doesn’t seem to know how important he is? Have you seen him? Can’t even walk right now. At least he can’t run away from me.” Minho’s playful teasing died away as he level Jisung with a look that held emotions neither of them knew names of. “I don’t know what I would do if he ran away.”

Lips quivering in a tight line, Jisung rapped his knuckles over Minho’s forehead. There was no weight behind the act.

The silence settled between them. Jisung’s hand was clammy, overheating between Minho’s. Neither let go.

In a movement too sudden for Jisung to process, Minho gathered his legs underneath his body- slowly pulling upwards. He hissed at every time a joint popped or a bone cracked. Which, to Jisung’s onlooking misery, was far too often.

He was half way up, legs nearly full straight but still bent at the waist, when the area around his wound seized. Minho froze in place, shaking with the effort it took to remain on his feet. 

Jisung held his breath, grip tightening, as he watched barely-contained whimpers and spasms rack through the elder’s body. Tremors resonated through their arms, shaking their arms like strings in a harsh wind. 

Without hesitation, Jisung released Minho’s hands and braced the boy’s hips. He probably couldn’t prevent the boy from collapsing completely, but maybe he could catch him in his descent- stop him from completely smashing his head against the floor.

Freed, Minho posted his arms on the wall above Jisung’s head. Their gazes were still locked, leaving the raw pain in Minho’s eyes open to be seen. Though his hips stayed steady, the elder’s upper body was slowly folding in half, drawing his face closer to Jisung with each passing second. In a position that seemed impossible and incredibly uncomfortable, Minho paused. Their noses were nearly touching, so close that Jisung could feel a wonderful heat radiating off of Minho’s body- practically calling for him to close the distance.

The places their bodies met were on fire, despite the frigid air.

But the places they were separated by a hair's width felt like they were close to exploding. Whether it was the cold pushing them closer, or something more, Jisung had no idea.

“Give me a minute.”

“Take your time.” And he wholeheartedly meant it.

It took less time than Jisung expected for Minho to fully right himself. Still, the hands on his shoulders remained.

“We should talk about everything later.” They both knew what he was referring to. It wouldn’t do either any good to ignore it. 

‘ _ Everything’ is such a broad term… _ A vast pool of information that the younger wasn’t quite ready to divulge to anyone. Because that meant admitting the experiences he’d been through were either terrible or common (and he should get over them- or, already  _ been _ over them).

Still, Jisung nodded. Minho was far more open about projecting his inner feelings. It was shocking- yet, consoling- to know reflections of what was swirling through Jisung, existed in the other, too. Even so,  _ actually  _ seeing them, first-hand, made the situation more real; the adoration, fear, hope.

He was lost. Overwhelmed. Caught in the middle of a sea with no map to guide him. 

But, maybe  _ Minho _ was his compass. Here for the journey, no matter how treacherous. By his side; no matter how many storms struck their ship.

“Come on. We really need to shower.”

Carefully, he stood. Too close. Closer than before. Still connected. Minho’s still-too-heavy breathing blew past Jisung’s cheek. The proximity made Jisung want nothing more than to ignore all of their injuries- and the coldness and the confusion- just to melt into Minho.

They just stood, staring. For longer than either would remember. Merely soaking in the other’s features, down to the most minute wrinkle. Minho’s arms hung at his sides, hands clenched into fists, the smallest portion of each arm brushing against Jisung’s fingers.

A shiver tore through Jisung. Not caused from the cold, this time.

Immediately, Minho jerked away. A barely suppressed whimper came from the younger. His body was cold- colder than any icicle he’d ever touched. Like the moment Jisung had been left alone, everything in his body decided to stop functioning: his muscles frozen, thoughts sluggish, lungs filled with cement.

Minho’s heat had been a calming blanket. A suppressant for the awaiting waves of anxiety, misery, abandonment, and all the other negative feelings Jisung had ever experienced in his lifetime.

The emptiness in his body-  _ his soul- _ was far worse than any pain, worse than the lowest temperature.

In the background: the shower turned on, producing a spray of too-cold water droplets from around the shower curtain. Jisung felt like he could feel each of the stray droplets hitting his skin like hundreds of bullets.

Jisung whined, outright and ear-shatteringly loud; the only sound that could be produced from his malfunctioning body. He wanted nothing more than-  _ what? _

What did Jisung want? The sensations to stop? to start, again? Minho to come back? For the elder never to leave his side and leave him so... _ broken?  _ The whole, crazy, situation to just… not exist? For  _ himself _ not to exist?

Minho was back at his side less than a second later, interrupting the intrusive thoughts. 

Arms wrapped around Jisung’s middle, slipping under his (still outstretched) arms and around his waist to pull him forward into a vat of feelings that were too new to be called  _ home  _ (even if it’s the best way Jisung could collectively describe the unfamiliar sensations).

Quiet words of comfort were spoken into Jisung’s (probably too dirty hair). Hands ran up and down his back. Warming. Soothing away the wrinkles in both his body and mind.

They took time to just… breathe. Take in the differences in their bodies now that they were together, once again.

It didn’t take long for Jisung to settle into the embrace; wipe away the tears that had barely had the chance to gather, wrap his arms tentatively around the elder, and lightly lay his head against Minho’s shoulder. He was afraid of being rejected- his touch unwanted. But, the arms around him only tightened as Minho rubbed his cheek lightly against his crown.

Soft words swirled around them until Jisung relaxed completely. 

A deep, heavy sigh interrupted the peace.

“Maybe now is later.” 

Jisung looked up, forehead knocking into Minho’s chin, confused. 

The taller’s brow was furled, bottom lip trapped between his teeth. It seemed like there was something waiting to be said, but Minho was refraining. 

“What?” The question was whispered; though, enough to start the conversation they both  _ needed _ to have.

Groaning out of frustration, Minho dropped his head onto Jisung’s shoulder. Unsure of how to comfort the elder when he kept hiding, Jisung mirrored the action. It created a small space for words to be passed between them. A  _ safe _ space. Free of judgement or harsh reactions.

“Now that you’re aware of the bond… things might start changing. It’s different for everyone... Woojin and Chan are rarely apart; Hyunjin, Seungmin, and Jeongin always bicker but they’re also very clingy; Changbin and Felix constantly talk… it’s just…  _ different _ . It’s partially up to us- how strong it becomes. There’s some things… that we can’t avoid. Especially, like- right now.”

To accentuate and prove his words, Minho pulled his body just far enough away, causing Jisung’s arms to drop, that they weren’t touching anymore. 

The effect was instantaneous and considerably worse than before, for both of them; though, it obviously hurt Jisung more since he hadn’t known what to expect. The density in the air grew- suffocating. The coldness came on so strong Jisung was sure they’d both get frostbite- from the inside, out. Immediately, their skin started stinging as if it was missing a protective layer that should’ve existed since their conception.

Jisung clung to Minho. Wide-eyed and pouting, the boy looked pitiful and worn out. As if he’d just crawled to the ends of the earth and finally found salvation.

“What do we do?”

“How about we talk about that after we shower and aren’t.. in boxers?”

At the mention, the warmth radiating from the shower became noticeable; albeit insignificant in comparison to Minho’s comforting heat.

Jisung reluctantly nodded, head tucked into the elder’s neck, a flush covering his cheeks.

The thought of letting go, facing the terrible feelings that came as repercussions, made Jisung shrink in further. He breathed in the muted cinnamon, the familiar scent mixed with the musk of a few missed showers. Eventually, the younger was able to steal himself and step away.

“You go first. I’ll be right here.” Minho spun Jisung by the shoulders to face the shower and lowered himself onto the toilet seat. He went as far to childishly cover his eyes with his hands.

The nonsensical distress dug into each nerve throughout his body, Jisung wasted no time in obediently stripping and frantically jumping into the water. 

Underneath the pounding, pin-like water, he paused. Was Minho feeling the same as him? Was he experiencing the same intense  _ yearning  _ to maintain  _ some _ sort of physical contact? 

Thinking that he was alone in the fervent emotions made Jisung feel... pathetic.

His sudden dependence was staggering. Entirely foreign. In all of his life, Jisung had never relied on someone else to survive. Sure, his mom provided the shack and small things here and there for him- but it had never sparked any sense of attachment. 

The loss or separation of any of his possessions (except, maybe his headphones) had never affected Jisung to the point he felt as if he’d been stripped raw and left to be butchered.

“Jisung?” 

When there was no reply, Minho tried again in a more serious tone: “Sunshine. Wash. It’ll be over the sooner you’re done.”

Jisung felt his throat freeze; immovable, much like the rest of his body. 

Petrified. 

With a spur of the moment decision, Jisung reached past the curtain to Minho. His hand connected to clothed skin- the edge of a shoulder.

Immediately, the water revealed it’s true nature: soft, soothing, and steamy. Jisung felt his body untense. Minho, too, visibly deflated; his body unconsciously pressing up towards Jisung’s palm.

The question shocked them both. 

Jisung recovered faster. There was nothing to be ashamed of. The suggestion felt right. Even if it pushed the (already questionable) boundaries of their relationship, he  _ needed _ to be with him. Having the curtain between them- blocking their sight and their touch, was utterly unbearable. Offensive, even.

“Come with me?” 

It was more of a high whine than spoken word. Minho’s eyes snapped up to his, regardless. The shock would’ve been comical in any other situation; he-  _ Han Jisung- _ had managed to make  _ The Grand  _ Lee Minho speechless. Eyes brown wide, Minho’s mouth hung open as he tried- and continuously failed- to comprehend what Jisung was suggesting.

This time, it was Jisung pulling Minho up. By the small grip on his shirt, Jisung tugged the boy to his feet. Minho followed the guidance easily- as if he’d executed suggested the act, himself. 

His eyes never left Jisung’s, as if the smaller had caused him to be hypnotized. Trapped.

Minho’s shirt came off easily, an action that Jisung tried his best to take the higher ground on. Though he, shamelessly,  _ really  _ wanted to observe every patch and run his hands  _ all _ over the olive skin- soak up every bit of their differences and similarities- it wasn’t the right time.

Standing just outside the shower, waiting for permission to enter, the elder stood in all his glory. It was the first time that Jisung had ever wanted another human to be so close. To not leave. To accept  _ him _ , as well. Minho left his boxers on, causing Jisung to be aware, in the back of his mind, that  _ he _ was  _ definitely not _ wearing  _ any  _ clothes. But, Jisung wasn’t going to push the elder. Jisung had nothing to be ashamed of, despite his constant internal commentary trying to convince him to hide away. 

_ Hide from my soulmate? What a joke. _

Jisung moved out of the water’s way, shivering as a thick drop trailed down his spine. Placing his hands on Minho’s shoulders, savoring the renewed connection, Jisung took advantage of the boy’s unwavering attention: “is this okay?” 

Nodding mechanically, Minho’s body still aside from the jerky dips of his head. Blinks came through rapidly as his mind struggled to decide whether to focus on unsettling, internal thoughts or the stunning boy in front of him.

A verdict was decided by their bodies. Both sought the same actions.

Minho allowed Jisung to guide him over the ledge of the shower, into the corner opposite the showerhead. The spray of the shower was blocked by the younger, who had intentionally created a wall to protect Minho. He hadn’t thought this through.

Jisung chewed on his lip, eyebrows drawn together in thought. His gaze dropped to Minho’s stomach and the wrinkles increased.

“Maybe-” he sighed. “You shouldn’t be in here. Your stitches shouldn’t get wet…” The hesitancy- the regret- in Jisung’s tone was clear. He didn’t want to cause the elder any harm, but didn’t want to be away from him either. It was selfish. And life endangering.

When Minho gathered enough wits to respond- which took a time long enough to be embarrassing- his voice wasn’t his own.

“You’re right, Sungie. He  _ shouldn’t _ be in there. He  _ should  _ be lying down and resting.” Chan wasn’t fooling anyone. The chastising remarks were laced with humor- causing Jisung to blush and Minho to take on a small smirk. “But, I get the feeling this is going to be a new part of our ‘normal’. Don’t injure yourselves  _ or each other _ . Your clothes are on the counter and I brought an extra set of towels, too.” 

The moment he finished speaking, Chan disappeared as fast as he appeared.  _ Do shifters have superpowers, too? _

That broke Minho, the boy’s head dipping to gleefully rub a cheek along the back of one of Jisung’s hands. He was giggling as he answered with a condescending, “what kind of powers do you think  _ I  _ have, then?” Minho left his head hanging, looking up at Jisung with curious, sparkling eyes.

Jisung’s heart almost stopped. The answer came out at the same time he thought it:

“Hypnotism.”

Minho paused for a second, eyes widening before crinkling into crescents. He laughed so hard that Jisung was forced to slip the untrapped hand under the elder’s armpit, out of fear of the boy falling.

Partially recovered, Minho straightened and pegged Jisung with a teasing, flirtatious grin. It was so genuine that Jisung, starstruck, only caught the second half of his sentence: “-says I’m  _ hypnotic _ . Of all things. You’re the first.  _ Truly. _ One of a kind.”

The blush on Jisung’s face spread, undoubtedly painting his ears and the rest of his upper body with a deep pink.

“Don’t we have a shower to be taking?”

Minho, utterly brazen, looked up and down Jisung’s naked, sopping body before affectionately nuzzling his nose against the younger’s hand, once again. “I suppose.”

The pout on Jisung’s face as Minho pulled away, to stretch an arm out of the shower, was nearly so precious that the elder almost canceled the shower for cuddling. 

What was one more day of filth, if it kept the sun shining?

Instead, he flicked Jisung on the nose with the face cloth before pressing it over the bandage on his abdomen. Jisung made a small sound of annoyance, but still had a dazed look in his eyes. The struggle to comprehend the current situation and not let the worries past or the future influence his actions was obvious. 

With one hand, he held the extra padding in place. The other he rested on Jisung’s nape, threading through the wet hair and taking  _ way too much _ pride in the small shivers that tore through Jisung.

“Wash up first,” Minho said as he leaned sideways into the cold, stone wall. He made himself comfortable as possible, crossing his legs with feigned nonchalance. It was obvious that Jisung was following him, responding to his natural tendency to take control. Minho had to be the one to push the situation forward. As much as he liked being near Jisung- he wasn’t the biggest fan of showers.

Jisung took a second to reassure himself that Minho wasn’t going anywhere- that they were  _ okay _ and  _ here, together _ \- before turning around and scrubbing the filth from his skin. 

A few minutes in, Jisung let his mind wander. The constant pressure from the water mixed with Minho’s slow kneading- which moved across both of his shoulders before settling back on his neck- had Jisung practically soaring. He didn’t need to focus on anything and could just… feel. Be. Exist.

It wasn’t until Minho called him back that Jisung realized that the water had been running clear for a while and he was just standing under the water, letting it flow down his body. The scent of Minho’s cinnamon soap swirled around them, spiced tendrils of home.

“Ji?” The verbal prodding was gentle. “Hey- you in there?”

Jisung followed the voice, turning around with a sheepish grin. Minho had to be freezing, standing so close to the water without being under it.

The younger brought a hand up, scratching his head awkwardly. Jisung found it hard to shake away the wonderful, floaty, relaxed state; but quickly forced to at least reach a level that he could reply from: “Yeah, uh, sorry.” 

“Nothing to be sorry about.” The reply was curt but Minho’s expression confirmed that he wasn’t even mildly upset at what had happened. If anything, he was… proud?

“So, um, how- do.. you, uh, want to do this?” A stuttered question that normally would’ve had Jisung running for the hills was easily interpreted by the elder.

Minho dropped his hand away, without warning, eliciting an unappreciative wince from Jisung. 

The negatives harshly collided with Jisung’s solace, fighting for purchase that he wasn’t quite willing to give. Despite the conflict, Jisung found himself entranced in his soulmate’s actions, somehow knowing Minho purposely wouldn’t do anything that could hurt him. 

Turning around with more flare than necessary, Minho spread his legs to shoulder width and slapped his hand on the wall. He even went as far as to push his hips back, accentuating the (very present) curves of his back.

A noise of confusion slipped from Jisung as he watched Minho’s show.  _ What… the fuck… _

_ Oh. Oh no. _ This wasn’t what Jisung had been expecting when he dragged the elder with him into the confined space.  _ hoW DOES HE THINK HE’S GOING TO SHOWER LIKE THAT-?! _

“I never planned to. I’m under strict orders by Dr. Seo not to get my stitches wet.” Looking over his shoulder, Minho caught Jisung’s gaze and had the gall to stick his lower lip out and bat his eyelashes. “You’ll help me, though, won’t you, Sunshine?”

Jisung choked and looked away, embarrassed at the pet name. Well- a lot more than just the name, if he was being honest with himself. “Why do you call me that? That’s what I called Seungmin… before I knew… Puppy-Seungmin is  _ actually  _ Seungmin-Seungmin. And Felix calls us the sunshine twins, too? What is everyone’s obsession with sunshine? I don’t get it...”

Minho turned back to the wall, fists suddenly clenching as he contemplated the best answer. “Maybe we all need a bit of light in our lives?” Not the most classy or the most smooth response; but, it was true. As eight, their past hadn’t  _ exactly  _ been the best. Since they had come together- it had (slowly) been getting better. And, with the addition of Jisung, the circle  _ finally  _ felt complete. Minho wasn’t alone. He was bonded. Not a freak of nature anymore. Everyone could rest easy.

Once the competition ordeal was dealt with, at least.

Over his deafening thoughts, there was a rustling and the  _ snap _ of  opening bottles. A warm, wrung-out cloth slapped onto Minho’s shoulder. A stabilizing hand rested on the opposite side. Jisung’s touch was light and gentle; effective in its ministrations.

The towel rubbed over Minho’s body in methodical sections; the resulting trail of cold soapiness making Minho shudder.

Jisung paused.

“Are you okay? Did I hurt you?” The boy was  _ actually  _ scared. Scared that soap and water could hurt Minho. His emotions were  _ definitely, undoubtedly  _ influenced by the bond- heightened but not fake.

The concern almost had Minho turning around, taking the cloth away, and cupping the younger’s cheeks until he was fully reassured that Minho was fine. 

If anything, their separation was causing Minho the most discomfort. It had been for a while. That would probably be a  _ little _ too fast; he could deal with it a little while longer.

“I’m fine. If you could hurry up, that’d be great. I look like a prune.”

“You look great.” Though his heart jumped, Minho chose to ignore the mumble- for both their sakes.

Jisung  _ did _ pick up the pace, the strokes having more pressure, especially once he kneeled to clean Minho’s legs. Jisung made a useful discovery while passing the towel under the elder’s feet: they were ticklish. So much so, that Minho nearly fell backwards when Jisung managed to hit a spot in his arch  _ just right. _

It was then that Minho hauled the younger up and pushed him out of the stall, huffing about cleaning things more private.

He felt as though he’d been shoved into an industrial freezer while dripping wet, despite the heady scents and steam floating around the room. By the time that Minho shut off the water, Jisung had managed to wrap himself in a body towel and unfold the extra one for Minho.

Minho pulled back the curtain and couldn’t hide his smile when he was faced with Jisung- staring stubbornly at the ceiling, shaking with a towel around his waist, and water dripping from his hair- holding out a spread towel for him to step into. Jisung did his best to ignore the ideas that came from Minho’s boxers lying in a small, wet bundle in the corner of the shower stall.

Of course, to get to his own towel, Minho had to step into Jisung’s space. Which led to the boy tying the fabric in a rushed mess and dropping his wet forehead onto Minho’s shoulder with a strained sigh. The droplets were unpleasantly cold, but the feeling was easily overpowered being  _ so close _ .

_ We can’t even go minutes being apart- how am I supposed to go to the bathroom? Or… school?! _

“Is it always going to be like this?” Jisung’s voice was weak, a small stream of air drifting down Minho’s chest.

The elder lightly ruffled the boy’s hair, shaking away some of the wetness. Finding that it was far more soaked than could be healthy, Minho snatched a nearby towel and began drying. Jisung’s breathing slowed down as he worked and Minho found himself smiling before he realized he still had a question to answer.

“No. ‘It’ doesn’t have to be anything like ‘this’. The bond will become whatever we make of it. Whatever you want out of it- or don’t- you can tell me.” He had a feeling that Jisung wouldn’t be open to voicing his thoughts just yet; but Minho felt the need to at least show him the door for honesty. Though, he may have poured concrete on the seals by tacking on a self deprecating comment: “I went this long without even knowing if my soulmate was alive, so I understand. It’s not…  _ normal _ . If you want to completely ignore it…  _ us _ ... and never talk again... I’ll understand.”

At the mention of leaving, Jisung’s hands found Minho’s hips, tightly grabbing onto the towel with his thumbs pressing into Minho’s skin. The pressure was so much that indents would probably remain for a long while after. Half of Jisung’s mind said:  _ good. Let him remember who he belongs to. _ While the other was repulsed at the thought of being tied-  _ forever- _ to someone he barely knew. Someone who barely knew  _ him. _

The former was stronger.

The shivers returned as Jisung struggled to find the words to verbalize his chaotic thoughts. “I just… ‘soulmates’? What does that even  _ mean? _ ”

“Depends on which story you believe:

‘A single soul born only to be split in two once it reaches Earth, stuck to wander until it finds the other half.

Two people- two souls- reincarnated through the ages, always to find each other regardless of the times or differences.

Two beings so opposites that are so complementary that everything matches up and they are magnetically drawn together in mind and body.’ There are plenty of versions passed down.”

Minho finished with drying Jisung’s hair, throwing the towel in a corner in favor of carding his fingers through the tangled locks. A hum came from the younger, who subconsciously shifted closer to the comfort of his soulmate.

The next question was muddled as Jisung continued to piece his thoughts together: “what do you want us to be?”

Minho chuckled, pleased with the open curiosity. His head dropping down to brush Jisung’s ear. “I asked first.”

The boy pulled away, blushing at the action, a look of poorly feigned disgruntled annoyance on his face. Minho almost would’ve been convinced had the accompanying word not come out in a squeak: “That’s….”  _ not fair. _ The words died as Minho raised a teasing eyebrow. 

The elder had given him the opportunity to be honest- to set their boundaries. It wasn’t an opportunity to be taken lightly  _ or  _ passed on.

Realizing so, Jisung dropped his head back to its place against Minho’s neck. The tight embrace was comfortable, even if the last drops of water were still running down Minho’s hair.

“What if we don’t want the same things? If we’re…  _ soulmates _ ..” The overly-cautious tone as Jisung finally acknowledged the change in their relationship caused an alarm to go off in Minho’s head. He let Jisung finish, though, curious as to how the question would end. “Shouldn’t we just…. like- automatically?”

“This isn’t a fairytale, Jisung.” Minho resumed running his fingers through the hair, now rubbing slight circles into the younger’s scalp. It was, without a doubt, a heavy topic for a morning. And he was taking it  _ so well.  _ Pride swelled as Minho realized just how bad the conversation could’ve played out.

“I’m still… your friend, hyung, employer...  _ night-time squeeze toy _ .” He shouldn’t have added the humor into such a serious explanation, but thankfully it made the younger chuckle and relax. “ _ None _ of that will change. Being soulmates… if it didn’t exist, I would still want you here. It doesn’t create any obligations. For either of us. It doesn’t have to change what we are.”

As if a weight had been taken away, Jisung fully slumped into Minho- careful to put his weight into the side without the stitches. Minho caught him easily, hugging Jisung’s head into the crook of his neck.

“What if… What if I want it to?” Was he allowed to want more? _So soon?_ It had been on the back of his mind before: how right everything always felt with Minho. Even if they argued occasionally, the words exchanged were never intentionally malevolent. He felt _protected._ Guarded from the world _and_ from himself. Trust wasn’t something that Jisung gave out wholeheartedly to _anyone_\- not even himself. But with Minho… it might be worth giving.

“We can take it slow. I told you: this is  _ us _ .  _ We’re  _ in charge. No one else gets to define what and how we do.”

Jisung found himself smiling wide, teeth scraping the elder’s neck.

They stayed in that position for a little while longer, happily soaking up the other’s presence while settling inane doubts.

Eventually, Minho lightly tugged on Jisung’s hair.

“How about we get dressed? It looks like we have some  _ actual _ clothes.”

Jisung acknowledged the suggestion with a hum, but didn’t move. “Someone needs to clean your stitches, still.”

Minho mocked Jisung’s hum with another tug on his hair. “Yes mom~”

With a look of disgust, Jisung jerked back. “Do I look like Chan-hyung to you?”

A raised eyebrow. “So you admit he’s ‘mom’?”

“Was it ever even an argument?”

Minho shook his head in exasperation, finally detaching their bodies completely. The cold set in less fiercely this time, temporarily pushed away by their mutual agreements.

With a small smile, Minho conceded, “I guess not.”

Two piles of clothes were neatly stacked on the counter: one a mass of black, the other containing a pair of khaki pants and a fuzzy, pale blue sweater.

Wordlessly, they each grabbed a pile and got dressed facing opposite walls.  _ Of course,  _ Jisung had chosen the pastel clothes. He probably wouldn’t survive seeing Minho in something so cute and fluffy.

Apparently, Minho stood even less of a chance at survival.

The second they both said their okays and turned back around, Minho practically launched himself across the empty space, attaching his cheek on the top of the younger’s head.

A loud coo came out, vibrating through Jisung’s entire head. Minho ran his hands up and down Jisung’s arms, as if to warm up the younger. But, really, this sweater was his _ultimate_ _weakness. _“They’re so fucking mean,” he whined.

“Hmm?” Jisung tried to turn his head up and question the elder, but Minho stubbornly held him in place. He seemed to have forgotten about the mirror, which allowed Jisung to see the heartbroken pout. It was adorable and unguarded.

“Not telling.” Minho pulled away, but not completely, leaving an arm around Jisung’s waist. “Let’s get out of here. I need to get this shit cleaned.”

Suddenly, Minho was  _ really  _ eager to leave the confined space.

Leaning heavily into each other- uncaring about what the others thought about the contact- they made it back to the cafe. Which was practically silent, save for Woojin twirling a straw between his fingers in one of the booths near the conference room. 

Upon seeing the pair, Woojin stood to help, but quickly halted upon seeing their tight holds. Sighing a long breath out his nose, the eldest shook his head. “Chan’s fucking mean.”

The addressed male, as if summoned, was quick to innocently poke his head out of the conference room. “What about me?”

“You know what you did.” Minho huffed, eyes narrowing at the blond. The softness he had held towards Jisung earlier was gone- replaced by a mask of distant teasing.

Chan’s eyes ran over Jisung- much like Woojin’s had- taking in the hand at his hips as well as the clothes that swamped his thin frame.

Eyes lighting up, Chan clapped and bounced in place. He waited until the door was quietly shut before releasing out a bright squeal.

“They look great! I  _ knew  _ it.”

Jisung looked at his clothes in confusion. “What?”

“The boys bought Changbin that sweatshirt a while ago, as a present, but he refuses to wear it. They all love it- especially,  _ this  _ little one.” He nodded towards Minho, who looked up at the ceiling. “Just be careful… claws don’t mesh well with that fabric.”

Jisung nodded seriously. “Noted.”

Changing the subject and ignoring the slight flush across his cheeks, Minho looked down to Chan. “Is Bin still awake?” 

Chan pointed back to the door he had just exited form. “Yeah, he’s in there. Just.. be quiet? Lix had a rough transition this morning.”

“Thanks.”

Before they could move any further, however, Woojin spoke up: “Hyunjin, Seungmin, and Jeongin already went home and we’re about to follow.” The eldest let his eyes blatantly slip to where Minho and Jisung were leaned into each other. “I think you should, too. Some time soon, okay?” The words were hinting, an open suggestion.

“Will do, thanks hyung.”

With that, Minho and Jisung slipped into the conference room. Jisung murmured goodbyes as he limped past.

Changbin was awake- but just barely. The short boy was curled into a very human Felix, head resting contently on the younger’s chest.

Minho helped Jisung onto the bedding he’d left a couple hours ago, before tapping Changbin on the shoulder to rouse him.

“Hey.” The word was rough, like Changbin had  _ actually _ been asleep (despite his eyes being open and his hand tracing random designs into Felix’s side). Like he was thoroughly annoyed at being disturbed.

Upon realizing that it was  _ Minho  _ leaning over him, Changbin dislodged himself and ran a hand down his tired face. Felix groaned, unwoken and curled into a tighter ball at Changbin’s side.

“Are you doing okay?” The pleasantry seemed to be habit as Changbin rose without even allowing a reply and muttered to himself as he walked out of the room: “of course he’s not okay- he got stabbed. What are you thinking, Seo Changbin? Get your shit together.”

Minho shook his head at the younger- exasperatedly fond- and settled next to Jisung with a groan.

Jisung immediately latched onto Minho’s elbow- unable to will the small tremors away that had begun. They immediately ceased upon contact. He sighed- partially from relief and partially from resignation.

The older had the decency to look over and offer an apologetic cringe. 

“It won’t always be like this. It  _ can  _ be worse- more intense. Where we can’t even leave the same room.” Jisung bit his lower lip, grip loosening reluctantly. Before his hand completely fell away, Minho continued: “but that’s extremely rare. It’ll get better. We might not be comfortable being apart right now, but you’ve seen Jeongin at school, right? Those three have only been together a couple of years and they can go  _ weeks  _ without even  _ talking _ , if they need to. We’ll make it, Sunshine.”  _ I promise. _

“What if it doesn’t get better, though?”

“I don’t know what your definition of ‘better’ is, Ji, but in my opinion? Getting stuck with someone as great as myself for eternity seems  _ pretty fucking cool _ .” 


	36. [35]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to @ me and tell me how awkward this chapter is. Because no matter how much I played around with it... it's welll......... you'll see.
> 
> °˖✧◝(⁰▿⁰)◜✧˖°

Meeting Kim Seohyuk-  _ Woojin’s dad?!- _ was an experience.

To say the least.

But, thankfully... it wasn’t a bad one.

When Jisung and Minho- clinging to Felix and Minho, respectively- limped into a house that was nothing short of a mansion, the human nearly lost his mind. 

From the outside, the house looked intimidating: deep red bricking with numerous large, ancient window settings. The four were forced to climb  _ at least _ ten stairs to reach the front door- which thankfully looked rather normal, aside form the fancy, brass knocker set to the side.

_ What kind of doctor works in a place like this?! _

Honestly, he shouldn’t have expected it to be a simple trip to the local clinic. Especially, when Minho had made sure to clean up the entire cafe prior  _ and _ grab both of Jisung’s bags. Of course,  _ it had to be _ a sketchy too-obvious-to-ever-be-caught-participating-in-sketchy-activities house  _ right  _ in the middle of the cafe’s richee neighborhood.

The moment they reached the threshold, sweating and panting, the door swung open. Jisung and Felix were directly in front; the younger having yelled a too-cheery “race you to the top!!” at Changbin. Poor, exhausted Jisung got dragged along for the ride while the elders just shook their heads in exasperated fondness and continued behind slowly.

The person across the threshold sighed heavily- a sound of a person far too old and tired to match the appearance of  _ this  _ overly wrinkle-free man. Revealed by an amused twinkle in his eyes, was a youthfulness that easily overpowered the stern posture he was holding.

As if he’d been pulled out of a drama, the man stood tall- about a head over Jisung- and carried himself with an air of natural superiority. The slicked back hair, black button down, and khaki pants screamed  _ “successful adult!” _ ; but it was the pristine shine of the black shoes that sold Jisung on the man’s status. 

_ Who…? _

A tense moment allowed both parties to take in the situation. Jisung felt like parts of his soul were being bared under the blatant inspection of the elder. Felix tightened his grip around Jisung’s waist, pulling the shorter in close.

The man suddenly cleared his throat; troubled expression replaced with a hospitable smile. The change left Jisung shocked, staring with his mouth wide open.

“Minho.” The man looked knowingly to the boy at the back before schooling his expression back into one of neutrality. “Welcome home. It’s been a while, no?” Looking at the rest of the boys in the eyes, one at a time, the smile became genuine. It was stunning- breathtaking in a way that had Jisung hoping he aged as well as this man, eventually. “It’s nice to see all of you, again. Come on in and I’ll take a look.” The smooth baritone voice erased any trace of threatening presence the man gave off.  _ Maybe he really is a doctor. _ Intonation  _ like that _ could easily convince Jisung to do the worst of things without a second thought. “I’ll go grab a few things and be right back. Go ahead and sit in the lounge.”

Minho, despite the way he was still trying not to heave, returned the smile. “Thanks, Dr. Kim.” The warmth in his soulmate’s voice touched Jisung in a way it probably shouldn’t have. Someday, Jisung hoped something similar would be directed towards him, too. 

If things worked out, at least. 

Minho trusted this… doctor.. He deserved for Jisung to give him a chance. There was no reason for him to be shaking so much- be it from anxiety or otherwise.  _ Right?  _

Together they made it through the threshold. 

After a short argument, Changbin was forced to bend down, unlace, and remove all of their shoes. The entire time, he grumbled about how “you’re the closest to the ground, you do it!” was a completely invalid argument.

Jisung took his time taking in the house- which was extremely juxtaposed in its nature: The furniture and walls all gave off the air of rich sophistication, but the small touches of life that were… well… everywhere… made Jisung more comfortable in the area. From the entryway, he could only see a living room, a long staircase, and a long hall with various doors scattered down the way. The ceiling was at least two levels high; scattered lighting fixtures high up on the walls gave off a muted yellow lighting, making it seem as if they’d just entered an ancient castle- not some random richee’s house in the neighborhood next to the shack.

The only room he could really see into,  _ the living room? _ , held three couches and a large television, all boxing in a low coffee table. It was reasonably lived in- cleaned while still holding scattered personal items and memorabilia over the surfaces and walls. Mid-day light was coming in through the windows that nearly reached the ceiling; thick, dark curtains were tucked neatly away at the sides of the panes.

Felix bent down to whisper into Jisung’s ear: “I know it’s a lot to take in, but this place is actually  _ really  _ nice.” The increased proximity relieved some of the unwelcome sensations he was experiencing due to being separated from Minho- like drinking coffee after a hangover- but, it wasn’t enough. Jisung could be patient, though. He  _ had _ to be. After all, he didn’t want to be stuck to Minho for the rest of their lives. Surely, that wouldn’t look good for business. 

The last shoe to be removed was the one attached to Jisung’s bum ankle. Despite the constant, rumbly coaxing from Felix, the hands running up and down his arms to keep the cold at bay, and the reassuring presence of Minho  _ just a step away _ : Jisung nearly screamed. Changbin wasn’t being as careful as he thought, or perhaps the walk over had reaggravated the nerves in Jisung’s foot. 

The scene froze; except for Changbin who looked up guiltily, like he’d accidentally kicked a puppy. Jisung tried to calm himself- prevent more embarrassment from occurring- though it was difficult; residual spears of pain were shooting up his leg, practically all the way through his hip. Leaning heavily into Felix’s embrace, Jisung focused on taking in slow and quiet breaths.

Unwilling to break the calm trance he’d forced himself into, Jisung only watched as Minho bent down to take Changbin’s spot with a short, knowing pat on the back. The boy scooted over but stayed seated; pouting and curling into himself, observing exactly what  _ Minho _ was going to do differently than he had.

Pure, apologetic sadness radiated from the small boy. Jisung wanted to apologize for his outburst, reassure Changbin that it wasn’t his fault- just the  _ stupid  _ oversenstivity of the injury that had make him cry out. He didn’t move. Couldn’t find the words to convey his thoughts, either.

With a small grimace, Minho settled below Jisung.

A light palm was placed under Jisung’s lower calf to stabilize the leg. The awful, ugly pain was still present but Minho’s touch instantly coaxed it into being bearable. The shoe laces came completely undone, one eyelet at a time, until the shoe was opened to the fullest the fabric allowed.

Felix shifted so that he was behind Jisung, an arm around his waist and shoulders- just in case the older collapsed. The added sensation of having Felix so close- so stable- brought a wave of warm comfort to Jisung. He could have easily (and willingly) drowned in it.

“Whenever you’re ready, Jisung.” 

Minho was waiting, looking expectantly up at his soulmate. He’d snuck his hand up, into the bottom of Jisung’s pants to press his open palm against the skin, truly alleviating all resonating shocks the younger had been experiencing. Jisung found that he could breathe again, all thanks to the drug-like contact he hadn’t even realized he’d been in need of.

Jisung sighed heavily.  _ Might as well get it over with. _ Taking a deep breath, he leaned back into Felix; the taller tightened his grip in response, humming contentedly at the way Jisung was openly relying on him. Jisung nodded.

Minho was swift in his actions, yanking the shoe off in one fluid motion. Without waiting for further approval, the elder worked the sock off, as well. The lack of compression nearly had Jisung keeling over. It felt like his foot was a balloon; rapidly expanding to fill the entire room. 

They’d left his usual wrap off before leaving the cafe, something about “too much pressure and swelling” making him have to get the area amputated- which they  _ certainly _ couldn’t let happen. Jisung was  _ greatly _ regretting allowing himself to be convinced by their nonsense.

Light touches ran over his foot. Had it been anyone else, the meanderings would’ve seemed like a figment of Jisung’s imagination. But, Minho’s fingertips left glorious trails of numbness behind in their wake.

Dr. Kim chose to return at (nearly) the worst moment. Felix remained unbothered- continuing to hold his twin tightly, rocking in small motions. His soulmate, however, had stopped moving as if was a deer caught in the headlights; merely holding Jisung’s ankle delicately in his hands.

Changbin hopped up to grab the box the man was carrying, taking the supplies directly to the table in the midst of the couches. Seemingly on autopilot, the human sorted the contents into neat piles.

The man looked over Minho’s shoulder with raised eyebrows, curious as to what was drawing everyone else’s attention. With a short nod, he offered a pity-filled observation: “that’s one nasty injury you’ve got there.”

Without waiting another second, he hooked his arms under Minho’s and hauled the boy upwards. The pull made Minho whine, a high pained noise.

Once everyone was on their feet, Dr. Kim patted Minho’s shoulders with a condescending, apologetic dip of his head. “Sorry, sorry.” He turned on his heel and walked to where Changbin had expertly laid out various tools, throwing over his shoulder, “I just didn’t think you would move any time soon, given the hearts in your eyes.”

Minho balked at the comment, unable to retort. He crossed his arms over his chest out of need for comfort; a faint pink settled over the elder’s pouting features.

Giggling at the unfamiliar sight, Felix dipped his head down to Jisung’s shoulder, allowing the soft sound to be muffled between their bodies.

Meanwhile, the two by the table exchanged a short conversation that had Changbin grinning from ear to ear. It ended shortly with the boy all but skipping back to Minho’s side. The shame from earlier had completely disappeared, replaced with an aura of confident expertise.

The elder seemed to know what had happened between the two, as he shook his head with an exasperated smile. “You really… wow.. already.”

Changbin pulled Minho’s arm over his shoulder, a light blush covering his face at the unspoken suggestion, and helped the boy over to sit on the couch nearest the entryway.

Felix squeezed his twin one more time, before slipping an arm under Jisung’s legs and straightening up. The sudden change in position scared Jisung, making him cling into the ginger with a panicked yelp. Cradling Jisung against his chest, Felix laughed adoringly down at the poor boy before moving to join the others.

More from embarrassment than remaining fright, Jisung obstinately stayed in Felix’s arms, even when the reached their destination, unwilling to separate despite prodding suggestions from Dr. Kim. In response to the unwanted, additional attention, Jisung hid himself against Felix- trying to become small enough to be forgotten. Understanding the cue, Dr. Kim retreated back to where Changbin was busying himself with the tools.

With a giggle, Felix hitched Jisung higher in his arms and dramatically plopped on the other end of Minho’s couch. Thoughts about crushing Felix under his weight ran through Jisung’s mind but were interrupted when the boy nuzzled a cheek against the side of his head. “I guess we’ll just have to stay like this then, huh? Huuuh~?” The peaceful moment ended when the jerk followed his questions with mischievous fingers trailing up Jisung’s spine; effectively tickling the older out of his lap.

Jisung squeaked and all but jumped into the empty space in the middle of the couch. The reaction had his twin patting his leg with a too-innocent, satisfied smile, before getting up and walking to Changbin’s side. Without looking, Changbin slung an arm around Felix’s shoulders and continued his conversation of recent daily happenings with Dr. Kim.

Minho had an arm across the back of the couch- the limb  _ just  _ close enough that Jisung could almost feel an actual pull towards the elder. When Felix had left, the coldness and shivers had noticeably returned- unaided by the foreign environment. 

Thankfully, Minho was far less tentative in relieving the mutual misery. A hand laid just above the collar of Jisung’s sweater, calmly playing with the fuzzy material. Jisung found himself leaning back with a sigh, pressing into the touch.

“Do you know what Woojin-hyung’s family name is?” Minho’s voice carried over the chatter, easily catching Jisung’s attention.

“Uhm….” He was  _ sure  _ the eldest had introduced himself a while back… but Jisung had no recollection of Woojin’s full name. He shook his head.

“Woojin is my son.”

Jisung jumped at the admission, the man now kneeling directly next to his injured ankle. Practically eye-level with Jisung, he was staring intently at the colorful splotches across Jisung’s ankle. The unwavering attention from someone who was essentially a stranger had Jisung shrinking into the couch, nearly drawing his feet up to give the man a reason to go elsewhere. 

The strong discomfort wasn’t hard to notice.

Looking around for (hopefully unnecessary) escape paths, Jisung found that Changbin and Felix had taken the couch nearby, intertwined in a way that made his heart skip a beat. The smaller boy was completely engulfed- Felix’s arms and legs locked around him in a tight, binding embrace. Changbin didn’t seem to mind the inability to move, thoroughly content with lightly poking at random dots across the younger’s skin. Each time he found a new design, Changbin giggled and pointed it out to the boy in a high pitched, wonder-filled voice. As if he didn’t already have every inch of his soulmate’s body memorized.

As if he were talking to a small child, the man interrupted Jisung’s observations and asked: “do you mind if I take a look at your foot?” Jisung  _ did _ mind. Quite a bit. He didn’t like doctors and he  _ certainly  _ didn’t like strange people touching him.

Noticing the hesitancy, Minho moved his hand into Jisung’s hair, lightly massaging and occasionally scratching at the younger’s scalp. Jisung melted. The touch was grounding, and reassuring, and  _ everything _ that he needed at that very moment.

If Minho trusted this doctor- so could Jisung.  _ It’ll be okay.  _

And even if it wasn’t… there were three people nearby Jisung trusted to save him from harm.

“Sure.” Jisung swallowed his doubts and raised his ankle to place it on the man’s offered knee.Noticing the hesitancy, Minho flattened his palm out against the nape of Jisung’s neck. The touch was grounding, reassuring.

The examination didn’t last long, merely a few prodding touches and responsive humming. The doctor’s hands were warm and attentive, but that didn’t stop Jisung from tensing until his foot was gently placed back onto the ground.

Dr. Kim turned to the other injured boy, “I hear you’re not doing so well, either?”

Minho blanched, eyes wide and pressed mouth thin. Suddenly, the ceiling was particularly interesting and the hand in Jisung’s hair froze.

The gentleness with which Dr. Kim approached Jisung faded into stern demanding. It was obvious that the doctor wasn’t about to let Minho lie his way out of treatment since he already knew that something had happened. The look he gave Minho- who still hadn’t moved- was fatherly; unrelenting in the pursuit to fully understand the situation.

With a long groan, Minho flipped around, flinging his legs over the side of the couch and dropping his head shamelessly into a very startled Jisung’s lap. The sudden movement caused Minho pain as his face was contorted into a tight grimace.

An unconscious and immediate reflex, Jisung dropped a hand onto Minho’s forehead. He busied himself with clearing the elder’s bangs away, fingers running over the creases in the Minho’s face in an attempt to soothe the suffering. 

Minho looked up- breath catching from shock. It was rare- perhaps, even the first time?- that Jisung had actively and openly accepted him. More emotions than either of the boys could process passed between them, both of their expressions changing into open shock.

Surprisingly, Jisung came to first- realizing that it wasn’t exactly the best environment to have such an intimate experience. Clearing his throat, the boy dropped his hand lower on Minho’s head and took up the same motions the elder had been doing to him earlier. He didn’t know whether it was just the bond or he was falling head first for the boy, but running his fingers through Minho’s hair was nothing short of therapeutic. Feeling the soft strands slip through his hands and  _ watching  _ Minho’s breath slow in response… made Jisung impossibly more fond.

Eyes still focused on Jisung- who was blushing and doing his best  _ not _ to return the open gaze- Minho spoke up, his voice lower than normal, “my stomach.” 

Nodding, Dr. Kim pulled Minho’s shirt up just enough to see the bandage. The adhesive was pulled away from Minho’s skin with care, though the boy still cringed at the sensation. Jisung couldn’t help but look, wanting to make sure with his own eyes that the trip over hadn’t ripped Changbin’s work.

Thankfully, the strands were still intact; though, the entire area was lit in a bright, angry red. There were a few splotches of blood on the bandage, but the area had recently stopped bleeding. Jisung felt the blood drain from his head, the sight making his head spin. Even if he was glad that it didn’t look worse- it still brought awful memories to the forefront of his mind. Not wanting Minho to notice his disgust, Jisung focused on carding his fingers through the elder’s hair- making to reach the strands behind his ears, as well.

“You walked all the way here like this? Both of you?” 

Minho hummed in affirmation. “Woojin-hyung was pretty convincing when he said we should come home soon.”

_ Home? _ The thought… struck a weird chord within Jisung. The cafe- a public place where he used borrowed bedding and clothing- was the place that now most resembled a home for Jisung. The shack, held many memories of misery but also  _ his mother _ , had never  _ truly _ been his home; it was a place to sleep and keep what little belongings he possessed. A place to see his mother- the one relative left in his life. 

But, it wasn’t home.

W _ hy does Minho-hyung live with Woojin-hyung? _

Dr. Kim turned towards the other couch. “Changbinnie, you did well. There’s not much more I can do here, except touch-up the area.” The addressed boy glowed at the compliment.

Felix patted his soulmate’s head with pride. Affection oozed from his voice, “he had a good teacher, after all.”

Always jumping on the opportunity to tease, even if there were still small tremors of pain running through his body, Minho snorted. “I think he spent more time as a patient than a doctor.”

Dr. Kim chuckled, agreeing with Minho’s statement and adding, “first-hand experience.”

Changbin threw a pillow, which would’ve clearly hit Minho right in the face had Jisung not deflected it. Jisung laughed quietly as Felix flicked the older over the forehead. “You know he’s right.”

Baby talking, Changbin clung tighter to Felix- rubbing his head against the soft hairs. “Good thing I’ll always have you to take care of me~!” 

Dr. Kim wrapped Jisung’s ankle, covering the entirety of his foot in some weird, cold substance that made the entire thing tingle. They exchanged casual conversation- that was strained and forced only on Jisung’s half- about how all of the injuries had occurred. 

Thankfully, the doctor determined that there was no detrimental damage done- “no need for any amputations!” Felix had laughed much to Dr. Kim’s amused confusion- and Jisung should be at full capacity in less than a month’s time. A  _ month. I guess… could be worse… _

Minho was in a similar boat; thankfully, Changbin’s speedy treatment had saved him from bleeding out and developing any infections. However, he was officially banned from shifting until the stitches were ready to be taken out. The doctor figured it would only be a week, give or take a couple days.

Which turned out to be a double edged sword.

Given that Minho absolutely  _ had to _ participate in the competition until its completion- there had to be a mandatory extension notice posted out to the community.

None of them were particularly excited about the news, but Minho seemed to accept it the fastest. He knew his fate. And now that he had  _ actually  _ found his soulmate… emotions were mixed: Minho and Jisung couldn’t properly be together, if they chose to be, without the haunting threat of losing one  _ or both  _ of their lives, until the competition was over, With the way that the hunters seemingly already knew about Jisung’s existence- neither of them were safe. Neither were happy with the way that Dr. Kim had bluntly explain the circumstances.

It had initially alarmed Jisung that the doctor somehow just… seemed to know that they were soulmates. Jisung had yet to fully understand and accept the whole concept, himself and yet this man- Woojin’s  _ dad- _ acted as though he knew everything about their situation. A thought passed through Jisung’s head that had him more on-edge than before:  _ he’s probably seen soulmates before- Changbin-hyung and Felix aren’t exactly subtle and neither are Woojin-hyung and Chan-hyung… but has Dr. Kim ever… met his own soulmate? Is that why he… seems kind of sad?  _ Woojin had never mentioned either of his parents before.

Dr. Kim had long since sat down on the remaining couch, leaning forward and keenly observing the reactions of each boy. This quiet, naturally enigmatic nature  _ definitely  _ had been passed onto Woojin- the resemblance becoming more clear the longer Jisung stayed in the house. 

Trying to ignore his inner turmoil, Jisung let his hand still in Minho’s hair and looked around the room.

Pictures of all the boys hung on the walls, in various settings:

Two young boys in matching suits, grinning proudly with their chests out, on either side of a young Dr. Kim. One was lacking the light hair Jisung had come to know as an identifying characteristic.  _ Dr. Kim, Woojin, and Chan. _

Four boys, rolling on the ground and covered in mud, hair sticking up in various directions; all incredibly happy.  _ Woojin, Chan, Minho, and Changbin. _

A smiling woman, alone. Long, dark hair and a knee-length dress flowing out behind due to a slight breeze. A large sunflower hat on her head. A single, bloomed rose held delicately between her hands. Monochrome.  _ Woojin's... mother? _

The airport international arrivals terminal. A couple hugging. People passing by, ignorant to the utter joy and tears streaming down both faces.  _ Changbin and Felix. _

Two humans on a couch- a child on the lap of an adult- both smiling wide and almost hidden underneath the bodies of six cats and a dog. A family photo.  _ Dr. Kim and the cafe boys. _

A single boy, very young, sporting a flower crown, clinging to the leg of a beautiful woman. Severely faded and torn on three of the four corners.  _ Undoubtedly, Woojin and his mother. _

Other small touches of ‘home’ were spread throughout the room:

A shelving unit in the corner with various anime and cartoon figurines.

Colorful books of all sizes stored in a lone bookcase with bindings indicating a myriad of subjects and languages.

Two stuffed animals on the couch Changbin and Felix were lying on- some type of tubby Pokémon and a long, pink pig.

A small table against the wall opposite the television was covered in lines of facial products and perfumes.

Overall, the space felt lived in without being suffocating and/ or cluttered.

Minho was staring up at him, gaze openly questioning. He seemed to be waiting for a response- but Jisung had absolutely no idea what he had asked.

With a short, questioning noise, he raised an eyebrow and resumed sifting through the elder’s hair.

Placing a hand over Jisung’s, halting the movement, Minho repeated his question in a hushed tone: “are you okay?” The words were meant only for the younger, but they caught the attention of the rest of the room’s occupants given that Minho had been uncharacteristically subdued for most of the trip

Minho frowned at Jisung’s lack of response.

Really- Jisung didn’t know. He wasn’t entirely sure what to think and certainly didn’t want to step over any toes with questions that could possibly be offensive. After just barely coming to terms with the whole… soulmate thing, he was faced to meet someone new- in an environment he was completely unfamiliar with. Though Dr. Kim was related to one of his Woojin, he was still a stranger. There was something off- putting about the man’s attentive oversight that made Jisung’s skin feel as if it were melting away to expose his inner workings. He kind of… hated it.

It was all a bit too much to take in at one time.

Jisung took his time answering the question, appreciating that Minho wasn’t aggressively demanding an answer but giving him time to process his thoughts. Eventually, he managed to gather his thoughts into a single, coherent statement: “a bit overwhelmed.”

Minho’s eyes widened for a brief second, surprised at the honesty, before crinkling into crescents. Jisung was immediately confused. Had he said something  _ pleasing? _ Was Minho  _ happy  _ that Jisung was uncomfortable?

Dr. Kim broke the tense silence with a warm offer, causing Jisung to jolt at the voice: “well, Mr. Han, you’re welcome to stay here as long as you like. Any…  _ friend- _ ” he pointedly let his eyes fall on Minho’s grip on Jisung’s hand- “of my boys is a friend of this home. I suppose you’ll be staying with Minho-” Jisung froze, a blush rising unconsciously across his cheeks- “but, if you’d prefer, there’s a spare room on the second floor that’s currently empty. It’s at the end of the hall on the right. Feel free to make yourself comfortable.”

Trying to remember his bearings, Jisung bowed his head in gratitude. “Thank you…”

Returning the gesture with a satisfied nod, the man stood and left the room with a calm, “if you need anything: the boys know where to find me.”

When the footsteps faded into silence, Felix lazily leaned over and swiped the remote off the table. He turned on the television and proceeded to flip through various channels before settling on a movie that caught Changbin’s excited attention.

Light orchestral music drifted around the room from various speakers across the ceiling. At Changbin’s whiny and aegyo-filled insistence, Felix hopped up and pulled all of the curtains closed- dousing the room in almost complete darkness, save for the soft light coming from the entryway. The TV was large- nearly reaching the top of Felix’s head, but was easily dwarfed by the massive windows that were simultaneously creepy and stunningly beautiful. 

The sudden change in environment transported the entire room into a magical, snow-filled land. Delicate flute noises matched the movie’s wintry scenery- both Changbin and Felix clapping gleefully as they sang along to the tune which was unfamiliar to Jisung.

Minho groaned, the feeling vibrating through Jisung’s leg.

The elder started to sit up; though, it was obvious his abdomen was sore from all the walking and curious prodding. After a few frustrating seconds of flailing, Minho flopped back down; head crashing heavy onto Jisung’s lap.

Jisung yelped, shocked at the sudden return of weight. He brought his hands up to the sides of Minho’s head, as if to cushion the landing. The elder was panting, dramatically exhausted from the singular, short attempt at escape.

And there marked the end of Jisung’s ability to coherently process his thoughts. (Not that he was doing it well beforehand.)

Turns out… Changbin definitely learned his aegyo… from  _ somewhere.  _ Jisung’s poor heart wasn’t prepared.

Lip jutted out, Minho pouted as hard as possible up at Jisung- fully taking advantage of the younger’s transfixed state.

Jisung’s mind completely short circuited. Done. Empty.

“Sunshiiiiiiiiiiiine~ Help Minho up, would you?”

Cringing, Jisung pulled his hands away from the elder’s head to cover his eyes. “Stop it.”

Of course, Minho reached up to paw at Jisung’s hands, insistent on maintaining eye contact. “Pleeeaaaseee~” He wiggled his upper body against the younger’s leg, eyes sparkling with forced tears.

Felix sighed, “you might as well help him. Hyung won’t quit until he gets what he wants when he’s like that.” Said boy had resumed cradling Changbin as they laid on the couch together, the smaller happily clinging to the ginger’s arms. Felix had  _ just  _ dealt with and calmed Changbin’s whining- he didn't have the patience to sit through  _ another  _ bout by one of the elders.

Not deterred by the boy’s comment, Minho began swinging Jisung’s wrists in the air- an action that was  _ definitely  _ straining the newly-bandaged stitches.

The thought of having to sit through  _ another  _ surgery made Jisung’s stomach flip. 

Quickly, he leaned over to press his forearms against Minho’s belt and shoulders; trapping their hands between their bodies and effectively stopping all movements of the elder’s torso.

“Fine.” Jisung relented, hanging his head with a sigh of relief at Minho’s lack of movement. 

Embarrassingly enough, it took all of Jisung’s strength to heave a limp- and entirely unhelpful- Minho into a sitting position.

Head lolling back, the elder moved his feet in little kicks against the couch as he whined: “Minho wants to go to sleeeeeep~”

_ Then you should’ve stayed how you were. _

The orchestral cut off suddenly, causing silence to ring in Jisung’s ears.

Felix got up- much to Changbin’s utter displeasure- and moved over to the couch, crouching directly in front of Minho. “Come on, you.” The demand wasn’t exactly polite, but Minho didn’t seem to care as he flopped forwards happily onto Felix’s back- nearly knocking the boy over with his dead-weight.

Thinking of the stitches, Jisung’s breath stopped. He wasn’t sure if Minho, in his current… State? Mindset? would be capable of understanding the importance of treating his body with care. It worried the younger an alarming amount. 

Felix stood without a single complaint. Shifting around slightly, Minho settled in- burying his head into the ginger’s neck with a sound of sheer joy.

Looking down at Jisung, Felix offered a lopsided, apologetic smile. “I’ll be back in a couple of minutes, if you want the help up the stairs.”

It hadn’t even dawned on him that Dr. Kim had said the rooms were  _ upstairs _ . He had enough difficulty climbing the few stairs to get into the house, let alone a full flight. 

Mirroring the somewhat awkward expression, Jisung nodded. “I’d appreciate it.”

With nothing to occupy his attention- Changbin was obstinately pouting down at his phone- the minutes passed by incredibly slow. He had nearly passed out by the time Felix returned with rumpled hair and t-shirt that was stretched in various places.

“Jisung? Still awake?” The older twin hummed in response, unwilling to open his eyes as he had just melted into a comfortable bliss. The couch had been stiff at first, but now Jisung had been in the same place long enough that the cushioning had molded to fit his body.

Another sigh followed- resigned, but not necessarily annoyed.

The motion was seemingly effortless- an arm slipped under his knees and shoulders. Jisung was lifted into the air. Out of fear, he latched onto his twin’s neck and clung tight.

Felix’s low, airy chuckles vibrated through Jisung’s body, warming him up from the cold that had taken over a while ago.

“Awh. Ji, you’re shaking…” Indeed he was. It was nothing new- a newly familiar, uncomfortable feeling that seemed to reside deep within him. But, it was something that Jisung was stubbornly putting up with for the sake of his future independence. 

“Let’s get you upstairs.” With that, Felix took the stairs two at a time.

Unwilling to acknowledge that his feet weren’t on the ground, Jisung hid his head until the jostling stopped and he was being placed back on the ground.

“Wait here for a moment, okay?” Felix left, leaving the door to the hall open behind him.

Jisung nodded, dazed, trying to rub the sleep away from his eyes so that he could take in the new surroundings.

It was empty- like a hospital room. There was basic, honey oak furniture against each wall- a desk, a set of drawers, and a bedside table- but all of it… gave of a stark feeling of loneliness. Downstairs, the room had been filled with trinkets from each of the house’s inhabitants.  _ This  _ room barely looked used, despite the books scattered across the desk and the lone, empty photo frame on the bedside table. 

The walls were white. The bedding was white. Even the curtains hanging by the sole window were white. The fixtures all matched in a muted gold.

_ Is this the guest room? _

“Do you need to use the bathroom?” asked Felix, returning with a fresh stack of towels and an extra- white-cased- pillow.

Jisung shook his head. He didn’t feel like moving at all, honestly. The short encounter with Dr. Kim had drained the remains of his perpetually low energy storage.

“Okay.” Felix pulled back the nearest edge bedding, revealing a cocoon of promising warmth that had already been pre-heated by Minho’s dozing body.

Jisung sunk down without instigation, throwing thoughts of independence aside to stop the damn tremors that were growing worse by the minute. He sunk in so far that the mattress could’ve been made of water. Without directly physical contact from Minho- it was the first time that he’d actually  _ almost  _ felt warm. A heavy presence of cinnamon swirled around Jisung. He couldn’t help but sigh as he buried himself in deeper, thoroughly disregarding his pride as he did so. 

Felix hummed, sympathizing with Jisung’s happy sighs. The orange haired boy pulled the covers up, tucking Jisung in.

“Do you still have my phone?” The thought made Jisung realize he changed out of his pants  _ nor  _ the fuzzy sweater. But he did, indeed, still have the cellphone in his back pocket.

“Yeah.” The word was detached- so calm and content that Jisung had a difficult time realizing it was  _ him _ who had responded.

“Good.” Felix pushed his twin’s hair back, fond crinkles at the corners of his eyes. “If you need anything, just call Binnie-hyung. I’m sure that Channie-hyung will come check on you when he gets back home… are you okay with me leaving the door cracked?”

Jisung closed his eyes, completely losing all tension in his body. He wasn’t necessarily tired anymore, certainly capable of taking the time to appreciate a comfy bed. “Mhm.” 

With the consent, Felix hummed a note back and patted Jisung on the forehead before walking out of the room. Just as the door was nearly shut, the boy stopped. 

“We’re here if you need anything, Ji.  _ Anything _ .”

Without another word, Felix left, disappearing back down the hall.

The room fell silent, the vibrations from bass of the movie playing downstairs barely audible in the background.

Jisung’s mind wouldn’t quiet, however. 

If anything- it did its best to compensate for the change in the environment; any and every thought he could’ve possibly ever had rose to the forefront of Jisung’s consciousness. There was nothing in the room to distract him. 

Nothing on the ceiling. 

Nothing on the walls. 

Nothing. 

All of the white blended together and made him feel sick- as if he was simultaneously floating  _ and _ suffocating.

A hand flopped across Jisung’s frantically wandering eyes, turning white into black.

“Stop thinking so much.”

“Sorry…” Jisung mumbled- embarrassed at getting caught, despite Minho having seen him in far worse conditions. The panic still held him, however, his breathing noticeably heavy. Jisung was shaking again- his own body completely betraying his inner thoughts.

The misery doubled. Not only was he forced to deal with whatever his body was doing; but he  _ also  _ had to face the guilt of waking Minho up. The last thing Jisung ever wanted was to burden someone else with his issues. Because that’s exactly what they were:  _ his. _

“Don’t... sorry. C’mere.” Minho’s incoherent grumbling made more sense when he began began struggling. Somewhat impeded by the heavy mass of blankets, the elder whined and thrashed until he was properly able to make grabby hands in Jisung’s general direction.

Jisung made sure to pull Felix’s phone out before scooting over and giving into the other’s demands.

He’d lost all intentions to sleep- the comfortable bed in an uncomfortable room wasn’t enough to pull him under. And anyway, he’d been sleeping quite a bit lately.

Minho, however, was completely ready to latch onto Jisung’s waist; foregoing the thick, fluffy pillows in favor of wiggling down to settle his head against Jisung’s stomach.

As he had the night before, the elder trapped the younger’s injured leg between both of his and nuzzled into the heat that instantly blossomed between their two bodies. 

Jisung’s shaking died down as his thoughts calmed.

Soft snoring filled the room within seconds, sleep taking Minho within no time. The feeling of his soulmate being wrapped around half his body anchored Jisung- kept him from floating away.

After some time of peaceful non-thinking, Jisung picked up Felix’s phone and began scrolling through various recent news articles, finding nothing that stuck out aside from one “Local School Cancels Classes Due to Structural Issues”. The story included interviews from a couple students and their parents and concluded with a pacifying comment from Ms. Jeong.  _ Seems fake. _ But, Jisung didn’t know the full story, either. 

At some point in his reading, Jisung’s free hand had slipped into Minho’s hair, tugging lightly every time the elder’s snores got just a little  _ too _ loud. The elder returned the increase in affection by throwing an arm over his soulmate’s midriff, pulling the boy closer with a thin whine.

The action had only one word running through Jisung’s head:  _ Needy. _

Well. Maybe  _ two _ words. 

_ Adorably _ needy.


	37. [36]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [edited: Finally got around to watching the most recent Minho/ Changbin/ Jisung live and changed Changlix's blankets to match Changbin's yellow one as a child~<3]

Once again, Jisung was stuck at the head of a table occupied by the eight cafe boys. Dr. Kim had gracefully excused himself after helping put the groceries that Woojin and Chan had bought away- saying that he had some “work-related business to take care of.”

He was stuck next to Minho- or, more accurately, _ would’ve _ been stuck next to Minho- the table a convenient square shape that allowed each set of soulmates the comfort of sitting next to their respective partners. 

The first thought Jisung had when seeing the strange setup was a horrible image: _ what did Minho do when he was the only one sitting alone? It must have been awful.. _

There was _ one _ other _ small _issue: Minho was currently in his cat form.

It’d nearly given Chan a heart attack when he’d checked on them during the night and found Minho’s small, furry body curled up on Jisung’s chest. 

Across the bedding, there’d been traces of blood in small pools- _ why didn’t I wake up?!- _some, even, over his body and sprinkled onto the wooden flooring.

The thought of Minho struggling- _ alone- _ right next to his peaceful sleep absolutely tore Jisung apart. Shifting was _ supposed _ to be extremely uncomfortable- _ at best- _ and life threatening if the person was _ injured. _

Minho had been _ stabbed. _

Jisung felt awful despite the hyung’s unrelenting attempts to console him. All of the boys were confused- but, according to Changbin, it wasn’t the first time Minho had switched on his own. 

Earlier, at Chan’s frantic yelling, Changbin had raced into the room- half awake and just as anxious as the elder- only to sigh and shake his head.

Minho was declared “safe and sound” the second that they discovered that he enough energy to hiss at whoever tried to remove him from Jisung. The younger had been on the receiving end of a particularly nasty nip, to which he thumped his soulmate on the head with a mildly annoyed “it’s me, you idiot. Calm down and let Changbin-hyung look at your stitches.” Immediately, Minho licked over the red area on Jisung’s hand and complied to inspection.

Despite the copious amount of liquid and angry, discolored skin- Minho’s wound was almost completely healed. 

Thus, Jisung had been stuck limping downstairs to the table with a cat clinging to his shoulders. 

The warmth was undeniably welcome- the soulmate effect seemed to be working twice as much with Minho being in his other form. But, maybe, that was just because Jisung _ really _ liked all cats. And Minho’s fur was _ super _ soft. And smelled of that cinnamony-home smell. 

Maybe, it was Jisung’s own heart amplifying the feelings which already existed in their bond.

At the table, he sat at the only open side, next to Chan and across from Jeongin, with a _ very _content cat nestled in his lap.

Jisung had learned quickly that cat!Minho preferred to be in control of situations, not be manhandled, so when he’d sat down and Minho relocated downwards, Jisung just let it happen. 

He’d even gone so far as to bend down and whisper for Minho’s consent to be petted. The enthusiastic head butt to his nose had been the reply. _ I’ll have to remember to ask him more when he changes back. _ Jisung didn’t want to be overstep any boundaries that he didn’t know existed; though, he also had no doubt Minho would _ immediately _let him know if something happened that he didn’t like.

The youngest three were arguing playfully amongst each other, drawing soft chuckles from the rest of the table. Something about the elder two having too much homework and not enough time- a sentiment that Jeongin all too proudly didn’t agree with due to his fire alarm stunt.

Changbin was in a similar predicament to Jisung- his entire attention being pulled away to the cat in the seat next to him. Perhaps, seat was an understatement, though. The tasseled pillow/bed in the set of the chair gave off Royal Rich Person vibes; and, on top of it: fluffy, perfectly-groomed Felix was curled around one of Changbin’s hands. The elder didn’t seem to mind his trapped hand; the cat thoroughly content to be in contact with his soulmate.

The last to take his seat, bringing with a large entree dish, was Woojin.

With the presence of their eldest, the table fell silent.

“Well. I’ve gathered you all here for an important reason.” The solemn tone of his voice set Jisung on edge immediately. Woojin wasn’t necessarily the one he expected to be cracking jokes and throwing food; but, he’d never seen him be so... serious and resigned before. 

Though his ears twitched, Minho stayed relaxed in Jisung’s lap- taking the opportunity to nudge the younger’s hand the moment it stopped running through his fur.

Hyunjin huffed and rolled his eyes. Of course, Jisung was the only one even _ slightly _ affected by the gravity of the situation. The rest of them had been expecting the talk since Minho had _ finally _ broadcasted his discovery. Most of them had known since the moment the two had met. It was obvious how.. slow the boy was to adapt. Regardless of whatever the situation was becoming. “ _ Hyung. _ Cut the dramatics, please.”

“Let him have his moment,” Chan chastised- though he rolled his eyes in agreement. A smile was hidden behind his attempt to remain serious in support of his partner.

Clearing his throat, Woojin continued, “there are a few things we have to smooth out for all nine of us. Sooner rather than later.” The eldest leaned forward on the table, hands clasped in front of him. He looked at each of the boys in turn, eyes remaining on Jisung a fraction longer than the rest- making the poor boy’s heart rate spike.

Suddenly, Woojin threw his hands up in the air with a wide smile.

“But, first: we eat!”

Jisung swore to himself. These boys were going to give him a headache.

The meal passed with little to note. Small pleasantries and insignificant stories from the past were bounced around and yet, Jisung found himself unable to relax.

It was great and all- how much they all got along and openly shared thoughts with each other. But, Jisung didn’t have much to add in. Even with Chan’s light-hearted questions (“have you ever ate celery with peanut butter? No? How about eggs in your hot chocolate? Binnie says it’s good but…_ I dunnnoo~”), _ he found that he didn’t relate to their shared experiences.

As much as he tried to coax himself into relaxing and enjoying the fun, Jisung just… _couldn’t. _Minho’s unmoving presence in his lap helped mask the physical manifestations of his anxiety- the cat barring Jisung from wringing his hands or bouncing his legs. 

Still, there was nothing to calm the pointless, racing thoughts through his head.

_ What do they want to talk about? _

_ What’s changed? _

_ Is it me? Do they want me to leave? Is this the last time I’ll be with them- a last dinner? _

Minho’s unexpected change had obviously surprised the elders and Jisung couldn’t help but think that he had caused the switch. As it was, he felt guilty for even thinking about a scenario in which he had caused Minho to nearly die just from being near him. Though, they could barely be separated at this point. He didn’t know what to do. Or, what to think.

It was only made worse once Seungmin and Jeongin cleared the table; everyone else staying seated at Chan’s quiet request. Changbin whined about having a song to work on, an issue that was quickly solved once Chan promised to help him with it after their discussion.

When all of the boys were back in their places, Woojin cleared his throat. “I… _ we-” _ he gestured at his soulmate- “think that it’s best to tell Jisung about our pasts, now that he and Minho have discovered their bond. We won’t force ask any of you to share anything, if you’re not comfortable doing so. But, I do think getting everything out in the open as soon as possible will be the best for all of us.” Directing his gaze at Jisung, Woojin offered a small smile- though the rest of his expression remained serious. “Try not to judge us too hard? We are who are because of the past and it’s over now…”

Biting his lip, Jisung nodded. So much had changed for him in just a week and could _ change _ going forward.. Hell. He’d found his _ soulmate _ and slept...not outside and had a proper hygiene routine for the longest consecutive period in a _ while _ . Jisung had been cooked for, cuddled with, doted on, and employed. _ So much _ had changed.

“I’ll go first.” 

Surprising everyone-even himself- with his words, Changbin stared down at the cat next to him. With a quiet _ mrrp _, Felix closed the distance and pushed his head into his human’s stomach with low, consoling rumbles.

“I grew up with Woojin-hyung and Minho-hyung. Our parents were all friends because they all grew up together- they were Shifters, too.” The use of past tense caught Jisung’s attention, while it caused others in the room to flinch. Changbin was obviously straining to keep his voice and face neutral, his hands swiftly threading through Felix’s long, orange fur.

_ So, the genes managed to skip Changbin somehow? It had to have been rough… expecting to shift and then not being able to.. _

“My parents were both doctors… they were the clan’s medics for whenever anything went wrong… I sat in on a lot of their sessions and studied; so, I picked up a lot of it while they were still around... Woojin’s dad handles things if they get really bad; but, I’m basically the medic now.”

“Damn right he is!” The youngest’s energetic cry broke through the tension, earning unanimous smiles and chuckles for his cute behavior.

“What he’s not telling you is that he was his own training dummy.” Hyunjin’s snark also garnered a few laughs, broken by Changbin’s loud huff- the digression clearly unappreciated.

“I… lost my parents.” Heavy gravity returned at the confession. “It happened during elementary school… it was… awful. They were always-” his voice cracked- “always so happy. So willing to help others and lend an ear or a shoulder. I… lost it. Without them. Woojin-hyung’s dad took me in and I _ still _ just… I couldn’t keep it together.” Changbin cringed at his own memories, his voice losing it’s strong tenor. “I lost my shit. Couldn’t focus on anything. Every day was so- _ horrible. _ I couldn’t stand any person that wasn’t part of our clan. The world seemed… toxic.”

“But then~” Seungmin sing-songed, the tone too cheerful for the foregoing story.

Changbin cracked a smile, genuine happiness seeping into his expression. “But, then I met an awkward transfer student who could barely carry a solid conversation. I introduced him to Channie-hyung because he spoke English. But he just… never left me alone. And here we are~ he’s still here~ My little Lixie~” Lifting the addressed above his head, Changbin hummed a melody befitting of worship before gleefully crushing the cat to his chest.

The conversation lulled for a few moments, the others wordlessly communicating who was going to talk next. Not wanting to pressure anyone- _ this hadn’t even been his idea- _ Jisung fiddled with his fingers. For the first time in a long while, his cuticles were intact- uncracked and looking healthy. How… odd.

“There’s not really much to say for me. I don’t really fit in here-” immediate arguments rose among the boys, but Seungmin rose a single hand up to hush them. “I don’t fit in here; but they let me stay, anyway.”

“Damn right,” Hyunjin grumbled. 

(Un)Luckily(?), Seungmin was sitting in the middle of his soulmates and had the great pleasure of being crushed in a three-way hug. He squirmed in response to the excessive affection, taking only a few moments before melting entirely into the embrace.

“I shift into a canine form- which is really rare. Never met anyone that wasn’t a feline shifter in my life.”

“Not your parents?” Jisung questioned, voice quiet and thin. He knew he wasn’t supposed to push for information, but Seungmin had brought the subject up and- and it wasn’t like the boy _ had _ to answer it. _ ...right? _ He wasn’t be pushy?

Out of nowhere, Minho licked a heavy line across Jisung’s wrist. The strange sensation had him jumping in his seat, nearly sending Minho tumbling. The human glared at the animal, but was faced with pure innocence. _ Not the eyes. You’re not getting away with that. _ Jisung narrowed his eyes, trying to communicate just how much he didn’t appreciate the action- his wrist was _ tingling _with wet saliva.

Unbothered by the occurrences on the opposite side of the table, Seungmin answered Jisung’s question, more despondent than ever: “they don’t shift. They… don’t know _ I _ can shift either.” At the resignation, Hyunjin and Jeongin simultaneously rubbed their faces against Seungmin’s shoulders. “Anyways, I’m happy here. I’m with Hyunjin and Jeongin a lot because my parents... _ yeah. _ That’s it.”

Jeongin, not wanting his soulmate to dwell on bittersweet memories, followed the story quickly: “_ my _ parents shift. Our entire family shifts into black cats. So do I! But- I’ve got this weird white spot on my stomach- don’t know how _ that _happened...” Jeongin laughed boisterously, leaving Jisung a bit confused: had he missed something funny? 

The youngest quickly sobered with a light flick on the head from Seungmin. “I don’t live far from the hyungs. Been playing tennis since middle school, so that’s cool. But- uh. I guess I’m more of the intelligence type? In our clan, at least. I mean- Seungminnie-hyung is way smarter than me, obviously, but- uh. There’s a lot of guys in tennis that aren’t… good. After yesterday… I confirmed it.” The news wasn’t a surprise, though it seemed that everyone- save for the eldest two- didn’t know the exact details of the situation.

Given the numerous times Jisung had overheard the awful comments from the sports team after their morning 

“I- we- thought there were an organization of hunters within the school system. What better a place to keep an eye on growing shifters right? There were weird rumors around and weird hazing rituals… so I ended up joining them to see if they were true and… _ yeah. _ They’re true. 

“Minho-hyung’s competition started and it was so obvious. I’m just mad that we can’t do anything about it.” Jeongin looked up, his expression exceptionally grave. “Jisung-hyung- they… they know you’re involved in the competition _ somehow _. I don’t think they understand you’re hyung’s soulmate, yet. But, after you wrecked that trap- they definitely have a grudge against you. And that’s not good. The things they’ve been saying- they’re not good.”

“Did that have to do with the fire alarms?”

The youngest nodded. “I overhead a group of guys in gym class that they were going to- going to corner you and-” Jeongin paused to clear his thought, figuring it would be better to leave _ some _ of the details out. “So I told them to leave you alone. The guys didn’t like it, but I don’t think that they’re onto me- I’m good at acting. A few tried to pick a fight so I said ‘let’s take it outside, if you’re so tough’ and pulled a fire alarm on the way out. There were at least five of them. Five on one? Pathetic. No thanks. Not even Binnie-hyung could handle that.”

Changbin rolled his eyes, not biting at the obvious bait.

It was then that Jisung realized the youngest was absolutely crazy. _ He’s the youngest _ and _ the shortest on the team- how-? Why...? _ Jisung appreciated Jeongin’s gesture but the thought of the young boy getting injured at his expense… he didn’t even want to think about it. It was bad enough that he was getting cornered in public- if they went after Jeongin, too…

Jisung shivered.

Unconsciously, he began petting through Minho’s fur.

Laying his cheek tiredly into the crook of Seungmin’s shoulder, Jeongin sighed heavily. “Jisung-hyung… I think you should be really careful when we go back to school. Those guys will fuck you up for no reason.” At the crude anecdote, several sighs resounded around the table. Though, no one disagreed with the statement.

Feeling off-put, Jisung nodded stiffly. This was supposed to be _ Minho’s _ competition- so why did he feel like he was _ also _ being hunted??

For the first time since they’d sat down, Minho reacted to the words being said. In his feline form he had far less restraint- or, simply figured he could get away with more. It was obvious how Jisung’s entire body had frozen at Jeongin’s words- making it incredibly easy for the elder to latch on, crawl up, and nose at Jisung’s neck. After all, the human was still wearing the fuzzy blue sweatshirt which was irresistibly kneadable underneath Minho’s paws.

His intentions weren’t as obvious as verbal reassurance would’ve been; but, in that moment, it was effective. The subtle comfort worked immediately on the human. Smiling, Jisung brought his arms up to support Minho, trapping the cat against his body. 

The elder allowed him a couple of seconds of reprieve, before sinking his claws in and pushing away from his soulmate’s body. The sensations weren’t painful- just deep enough to express clear objection. He might be more soft and supportive than pre-Jisung times, but Minho wasn’t quite ready to let himself be blatantly cuddled in front of his clan. 

He had an image to uphold, after all.

“I shift. My parents shift. They’re both part of the clan. I stay with Innie a lot. Not really anything to be said. Next.” Hyunjin’s bluntness cut through Jisung’s reverie, leaving him whiplashed from the painfully obvious lack of information.

Though many looked unimpressed with Hyunjin’s description, not a single push to divulge additional words was made.

“I’ll go.” 

Chan straightened in his chair, gathering himself both physically and mentally. Though his words were animated, the elder’s somber expression prepped Jisung for whatever that was about to pull at his heartstrings. _ What could Chan have possibly gone through to shape him into such a responsible, caring adult? _

“Woojin found me, nearly dead in an alleyway.” Well. There it was. “That happened twelve...? No, _ thirteen _ years ago. We were eight- Woojin and I. I don’t know what Lix has told you- they’re not exactly accepting of shifters in Australia. Most just spend live in their animal form, which leads to the number of animals being crazy high- higher than the humans. But, the country also can’t support that many humans so-... well, _ anyway _: 

“I left when it was summer there… it was definitely winter here, though. As a foreigner _ and _ a teenager, it was impossible for me to find a job or any sort of employment. I just.. Scrounged. What I could. Lived off of restaurant scraps. Slept under cars.”

“But I found him.” The warmth in Woojin’s voice was the most abundant Jisung had ever heard. The eldest slung an arm around Chan’s shoulders, nearly pulling the blond off his chair. They squabbled, arms flailing in a playful contest to win the other’s affection. Eventually, the eldest’s arm won its place and Chan was tucked into his soulmate’s side.

“He did.” Turning back to Jisung, the boy’s eyes twinkled with mischief. “But don’t let him fool you. He thought I was a neighborhood stray. Even hid me from his parents and made me a bed in one of his dresser drawers.” Woojin opened his mouth to protest, giving Chan the opening he needed to shove the elder away and cross his arms in exaggerated annoyance. Woojin pouted at the loss of contact; yet, Chan ignored him, patting the boy on the head condescendingly before continuing: “I didn’t know he was a shifter, either. He was so nice- I didn’t want to just leave him and break his heart. We spent a few months that way.”

“_ Months?!” _Jisung couldn’t help but blurt out in disbelief.

On the table side next to him, Changbin was cackling- disturbing Felix who only chortled in chorus. “What- what neither of them know though is- is that _ Minho-hyung knew _ before either of them. Woojin-hyung never shifted around the ‘stray cat he picked up’ because he didn’t want his dad hearing if they played around or broke something. But~ _ Minho-hyung _did. He knew like a month after Chan-hyung came. 

It was just _ so _ funny watching Woojin run around and sneak food up to his room, he didn’t say anything. And- because Chan-hyung was _ so _ skinny and frail when he first found him- we _ always _had to drag Woojin away since he was scared something would happen.” 

If it was possible for Minho to look smug as a cat- he certainly did as his head rose from Jisung’s lap to chirp a sound of agreeance.

Although both of the elders looked betrayed, Chan looked far less hurt at the revelation. After all, he hadn’t revealed himself to Woojin and it would’ve been rude if Minho had done it without his consent. It didn’t take very much coaxing for Chan to replace Woojin’s arm around his shoulders, an act which seemed to placate the eldest easily.

Changbin didn’t stop there, though. Still cackling to himself, he added on: “really, though. He even shaved Channie-hyung after a bath one day to check for ticks or something- that’s the least ugliest I’ve ever seen hyung before. It was crazy- like _ two-thirds _ of his body is just fur!!”

“Maybe, I’ll shear _ you _ next.” grumbled Woojin, dropping his head onto Chan’s shoulder in a silent apology. 

“Minho was _ such _ a little brat back then. A little black kit, he was a lot smaller than Innie is now. He was so cute- even if he did tried to crawl up everything in sight.” Chan cooed in an effort to take the attention away from his (very beloved, luxurious- thank you _ Seo Changbin) _coat. The commentary earned him a short, piercing yowl of disagreement. 

Jisung scratched behind Minho’s ears, laughing at the story and hoping to soothe the cat. The praise wasn’t embarrassing- if anything, it was endearing to learn about his soulmate from different perspectives. Maybe, Jisung would be able to find pictures of Minho as a kitten somewhere around the house...

“_ Anyway-” _ Hyunjin cut in, clearly unenthused with how long the talk was taking.

Chan indulged him while Seungmin flicked his soulmate’s forehead. Apparently, there was a double standard for impatience in their relationship.

“Anyway, Woojin found out- and so did his dad. They let me join the clan and I’ve been with them for… over half my life, now? I just help around with cooking and chores… sometimes homework- I don’t know what I want to do in the long run, yet. Buut- uhmm.. Yeah. That’s how I got here.”

Woojin picked up the conversation just as Chan finished his piece. “I guess my I’ll fill in the gaps. I grew up with Minho and Binnie; picked Channie up- literally- along the way; we met Seungminnie through the cafe and Hyunjin came later- with him; Jeongin’s parents knew ours- mine and Minho’s- so he joined us once his parents started letting him go to clan events. Felix… well he can tell you himself later, but he lives with us.

“Our house is basically the hub for our clan members- everyone’s free to come and go whenever they want. Some stay for weeks or months and others never ever step foot in here. That option is open to you, too, Jisung.”_ Why? What’s that supposed to mean? _ Jisung didn’t quite understand whether they were being friendly to him purely based on Minho’s discovery, or if he’d been inducted into some secret group without his knowledge. “You look confused,” Woojin commented, pausing in his explanation.

Again, Jisung nodded, unable to look any of the boys in the eye for fear of judgement. “What… exactly is a clan? And… why am I included in all this…”

Chan spoke up first: “‘Clan’ is just the formal name for a group of shifters, soulmates, and family members that all stick together. We protect and help each other. Think of it as something stronger than friendship, but less than an eternal commitment. Sometimes, people shift between clans; other groups are fairly concrete. We haven’t had an addition since Changbin met Felix years ago. No one has left, either.”

Changbin followed up, figuring that he related to Jisung’s position the best: “it doesn’t _ only _ include shifters. I’m here aren’t I? Seungmin’s parents would be included, too, if they wanted to be. And, regardless of whether you and Minho are soulmates- we’d still want you here- so don’t even question that. We’ve _ all _grown too attached to you, Jisung, to let you go at this point.” Changbin’s voice was unwavering; his conviction undeniable, as if he’d been practicing the speech for a while. Or, maybe, someone had told him similar before.

Though there was denial of Changbin’s words, judging by the deep-set frown on Hyunjin’s face, it was clear the statement resonated stronger with some, more than others.

Woojin’s light tone broke through the uncomfortable atmosphere as he pushed to finish his explanation. “You have a place here, if you want it. I’m sure my dad already told you: there’s an empty room upstairs. You can take it, free of rent, payments, attachments, whatever you want to call it. Even if you don’t want to talk to us ever again after this, it’ll still be open to you. There’s no reason to sleep in any more parks, okay?”

Jisung wanted to cry. The offer… it was perfect. Too much. But… just what he needed. How did he meet a group of people that managed to know exactly what was wrong in his life? _ Why are they willing to go so far? _ He was having a hard time wrapping his mind around how a group of random people all had so much in common.

“On a different topic, we haven’t had any recent, direct conflicts with the hunters in this place. But- it’s important that you know what they’ve done to our clan in the past.” Voice dropping low and quiet, the eldest straightened- as he looked at Jisung with something akin to reluctant suffering. He _ really _ didn’t want to have to explain this; especially, knowing the effect it had on all of them.

Minho didn’t want to _ hear _the story again. He barely remembered the events. Forced the memories away, except for one specific scene that haunted his dreams ever since. 

He’d been ten years old. 

The ten years since had _ not _ been enough time to fill the hole the hunters had made in his life.

Unconsciously seeking to be comforted while simultaneously providing comfort, Minho repeated his actions from earlier. But, this time: he let himself be held. The soft fur of his neck pressed so tightly against Jisung that each could feel the other’s pulse.

Bashfully, Jisung cradled Minho to his chest. If the situation had been any different, he would’ve giggled and nuzzled into the short fur. For now, he settled for silently soaking in the other’s warmth and calming presence.

“Just over ten years ago, there was an attack on our clan.” Jisung’s heart dropped. “We don’t know the reason why. There’s evidence that leads us to believe it was the local group of hunters. I’ll be blunt. That night, in a series of hours, I lost my mom. Changbin lost both of his parents. And Minho lost both of his.” Claws gripped Jisung’s skin through his sweater. The boy couldn’t feel it. “None of them were in the same place, so it had to have been planned out. Somehow, they got information on us- knew our schedules... and took the lives of people who were dear to us. Since then, we try to stay in pairs- at minimum- as much as we can.

“Minho’s cafe is great for that purpose. We can eavesdrop and hear what’s going on in the community… the same goes for what Innie does at your school. It’s all to keep us safe. We’re a family- and I hope you’re willing to trust us, at least until the competition is over, to help keep you safe, as well. When it’s done, we can check back in and reevaluate if your position with us. But, until then, I hope you’ll stay with us. Sound okay?”

Jisung had several questions running through his head, but was unsure how to proceed. 

Death- _ murder- _ wasn’t anything that he was familiar with. And, he certainly didn’t feel comfortable offending any of the boys. They’d been so… caring with him, after all. There really was no reason for him to deny any of their requests.

“What’re you thinking, Sungie?” Of course, Chan could easily read his blatant hesitancy. 

The younger blushed, unused to being the center of an entire room’s attention.

“Why…” his question faded quickly. Pulling back to look at Minho’s still body, Jisung drew in a long breath. “Why can’t _ I _… ‘win’.. the competition? Wouldn’t that put an end to... all of this? Is there some issue with me-”

Unexpectedly, it was Hyunjin who cut him off.

“Are you _ crazy? _ Do you not understand what those hunters are willing to do? We know there’s an organized group of them _ at your school _ . Look at your _ fucking face. _ They aren’t even sure if you’re the one who sabotaged their shit and they already- already they did _ that.” _ Hyunjin looked furious that Jisung didn’t immediately grasp the severity of the circumstances. “You will _ die.” _

Changbin sighed and rolled his eyes, exasperated, at the blunt truthfulness.

The youngest spoke up, his voice soft and free of any aggression, “hyung. If you ended the competition by claiming the prize- we’d have to publicize it to the community. Not only would the hunters know your name- but everyone at school, too. The hunters would know Minho-hyung has a soulmate… and they’re not exactly the most personable group, especially after they’ve been after hyung like this for so long. We don’t want another incident... It’d be best to leave you out of this- so that you and Minho can live without being bothered.” 

It made sense just as much as it didn’t. But, this wasn’t Jisung’s natural ball field. If everyone thought that the best plan of action was to avoid the competition being won, he’d have to believe in them. Minho, didn’t seem to disagree with their proposal, either.

Reluctantly, Jisung nodded in acceptance.

Satisfied, Hyunjin relaxed completely- the fury completely soaking out of his body.

“Any other questions?” Chan’s inquiry, though open and free of judgement, made the entire room visible tense up.

The talk had gone on long enough, as it was.

Jisung shook his head.

Each of the boys sagged back into their chairs- glad that the inquisition was over with.

After a few moments, Chan clapped his hands to gather the boys’ attention. “Alright, then! How about we watch a movie? I think we could all use it.”

Literally jumping up at the suggestion, Jeongin pulled his (far more reluctant to move) soulmates up with him. “We’ll get the snacks!”

“Changbin, Jisung- why don’t you pick out the movie? Woojin and I will grab the blankets and such.” 

_ So much for hyung’s song. _Jisung would’ve felt bad for taking time away from Changbin’s schoolwork, except the older was so excited at the thought of having movie privileges he was literally dancing down the hall with Felix trailing slowly behind him- all guilt was quickly faded.

Following Changbin’s lead, Jisung carried Minho to the living room.

Despite being in the most opposite room, shouts of glee could be heard echoing through the house from the kitchen. The thought of the three soulmates playing around- making popcorn and probably spilling a couple bags of chips across the countertops- brought a genuine, full smile to Jisung’s face as he plopped into the same spot he’d taken earlier. 

Rather than aid Changbin in the decision, he waved away the offer and told older to pick whatever he wanted. Changbin had let out a- seemingly uncharacteristic- high pitched squeal and danced, swinging an unamused Felix through the air as he twirled.

That was the scene Woojin and Chan walked in on, though it seemed as if it was fairly commonplace as neither batted an eyelash. The eldest couple proceeded to set up the bedding in a mechanical, precise manner. 

Each space in front of the television- the table had been carried off, out of the way- was effectively color coded, just it had been at the cafe. However, none of the blankets were familiar to Jisung. The familiar black bedding was missing and the white from the afternoon wasn’t present either (thankfully, however, as it was most definitely still covered in blood from Minho’s transition).

Noticing Jisung’s confusion, Chan laughed. The twinkling sound pulled the eldest out of his autopilot proceedings:

“Everyone… always ends up in the same place when we have movie nights. So, it’s easiest just to put their things in order now. Since Minho’s in that form, where do you want to sleep? I’ve got a fresh set of bedding right here-” Woojin illustrated by holding up a steel grey set, multiple pillows included, before adding: “I pulled it from the guest room.”

Eyeing over the obvious blocks of color- silky, dark purple; a larger section of light brown blankets and a large body pillow at the head in the middle; and furthest away, a simple yellow set. Overwhelmed with making a possible wrong choice and upsetting someone, Jisung chose the easiest answer to Woojin’s question:

“I’ll stay here. I- if that’s okay…” The couch held pleasant memories from earlier, gave him a good view of the TV, _ and _ he didn’t have to move. 

Chan nodded, smoothing out the sheet over the yellow section before gingerly crossing over to Jisung’s side.

Without prompting, Chan scooped Jisung- and, therefore, Minho- up into his arms with a wide grin.

Jisung yelped at the unexpected action, moving his arms from Minho to cling onto Chan’s neck.

Unfortunately for the cat, _ he _hadn’t been paying attention either, and went tumbling straight to the ground. Jisung flailed, attempting fruitlessly to catch his soulmate; which only caused Chan to hold the human tighter.

Laughing into his captive’s neck, Chan reassured Jisung of Minho’s _ superb _ reflexes. 

Woojin joined in, as well, unconcerned.

The lack of consideration led Minho to _ hmpf _, stretch, and run over to Changbin who was seated in front of the television- lost in deep thought.

Without any coercion, Felix darted out of his soulmate’s lap to chase the elder over and around the couches. Together, the cats streaked around the house: up and down the stairs and the halls, into the kitchen (which earned boisterous cheers from the room’s three occupants) and back into the living room.

By the time the two felines returned, Woojin had created a fluffy, storm cloud-like bed for Jisung to be settled into. The human had _ just _ reclined back into the small mound of pillows when Minho chose to pounce directly onto his stomach. On reflex, Jisung curled around his soulmate, pulling the energetic male close.

Felix was much more considerate in his landing, choosing to settle pretentiously at the top of Jisung’s couch. The two traded sounds of seemingly lighthearted cat chatter, leaving a confused Jisung as a helpless bystander between them.

Woojin and Chan had already lowered the lights in the room and settled into their spot- the appropriately regal looking purple bedding beneath Jisung. They watched, thoroughly amused, as the two conversed.

“Can you understand what they’re saying?” Whispering behind his hand, Jisung directed an innocent look at Chan- who happened to be the closest.

“Not like this, our human brains don’t process information the same way.” The elder, thankfully, didn’t joke around in answering the younger’s honest question.

The two felines quietened as the trio entered the room, still talking loudly, their arms filled with bowls of various snack foods. Seungmin trailed at the back, carrying nine bottles of assorted beverages.

Everyone calmed and settled in shortly after, munching and lowly conversing.

Jisung took the lull as the chance to check on Minho’s injury- running his fingers lightly along the fur on the cat’s underside. The elder had growled at the unexpected intrusion, the annoyed sound only dying away after Jisung explained his actions. An apologetic nudge ended the discourse.

Both of the cats chose to remain with their newest human: Minho resuming his position on Jisung’s chest; Felix wrapped around the boy’s head like a bright, orange halo.

Changbin complained about this as soon as he noticed, much to Jisung’s dismay. 

However, Seungmin was quick to save the day. The young boy, despite his mocking and grumpy expression, rolled over Hyunjin to latch onto Changbin’s small body. 

At the contact, the older sighed happily. The immediate change brought small smiles to the rest of the room- who didn’t want any of their friends to be discontent. Felix also expressed his happiness, his fluffy tail whipping around precariously- sometimes smacking Jisung directly in the middle of his face.

The movie started; a familiar, but altered, lilting tune from the song Changbin and Felix had belted out earlier in the day blasted the room.

The boy responsible giggled from Seungmin’s hold, unable to resist humming along to the melody.

Woojin sighed, a knowing eye roll accompanying his words, “don’t you ever get tired of this series? You watched two of them earlier, didn’t you? With Felix?”

Changbin wiggled around until he was able to prop his chin on Seungmin’s shoulder. Glaring at the eldest, the boy pursed his lips. “You heard Minnie earlier! He said he’s _ never _ seen another canine shifter. So he _ has _ to see this. He always falls asleep before he comes on screen!! But, I’ll make sure he stays awake, this time!” At the care-filled threat, Seungmin swiftly captured the elder in a headlock, making absurd sounds as he pushed his nose into the boy’s black hair.

Hyunjin laughed at the burst of affection, easily reaching over Jeongin to tousle Seungmin’s hair.

With the final burst of energy released, everyone relaxed.

Hyunjin left his arm over Jeongin; his hand remained tangled in Seungmin’s hair.

Jeongin, with his back against Seungmin’s, was tucked into Hyunjin’s body- uncaring of the movie’s contents. Undoubtedly, he was the first to reach unconsciousness.

Woojin and Chan, underneath their silken cover, remained awake the longest. Underneath the sounds of the movie they exchanged a low conversation, Chan playing with one of Woojin’s hands while the eldest’s free arm was wrapped firmly around his soulmate’s shoulders. Together, they exuded ‘strong, established couple’ vibes and blanketed the room with a grand sense of security.

Minho remained, head tucked into Jisung’s neck, even after the younger pulled the blanket up over them.

At some point, Felix slipped down into the warmth as well, causing the three to bask in the increased warmth that protected them against the crisp, fall temperatures. 

Despite the weight on his chest, Jisung was happy. Protected, and fed, and taken care of, and most foreignly: _ loved. _

And as it turned out, Changbin’s raspy commentary and insistent jabs managed to keep Seungmin awake _ just _ long enough to witness the sight of another canine shifter. The puppy fell asleep in a similar state to Jisung that night, dreaming of possible ancestors and other canine shifters he had never met, but yearned to converse with.


	38. [37]

“Seungmin, calm _ the fuck _ down! I told you we’ll leave in a few, let me get our shit together, first!!”

At Changbin’s yelling, Seungmin let out a high whine, tucking his tail between his legs. The submission didn’t seem to phase the human, as he continued to organize the scattered bedding. A huge tower precariously stacked next to the television was nearly complete, save for the final set that was underneath Jisung.

_ Wait. Seungmin’s- tail-?! _

Jisung’s sleepiness vanished as he jerked at the discovery, only to find each of his limbs were being held down. Upon inspection, Jisung felt hysteria bubble up and out of his body. When had he died and gone to heaven?

He _ had _to be dreaming.

In what reality could he possibly be so lucky as to wake up and be surrounded by six- _ six!!- _ cats?!

Even Hyunjin’s calico mass was nearby- stretched out at the top of the couch, his tail swinging back and forth as he watched Changbin chase an overly-energetic Seungmin around the living room. It was obvious the dog was winning when Changbin tripped on the edge of the sofa. The poor human tumbled over the side, thankfully landing on the soft padding. Apologetic even though he hadn’t caused the accident, Seungmin quickly lopped over and began licking at Changbin’s face.

Changbin batted him away, wiping away the slobber with the back of his hand before returning it- rubbing his hands down Seungmin’s back. The dog backed up and sat between Changbin’s legs, content with the full body scratches. The human huffed, but gave in- doing anything to get the canine to calm down in the awful morning hours. It seemed to work like magic as Seungmin leaned into the couch, fully relaxing into Changbin’s touch.

Woken up by the commotion, too: Woojin and Chan were tussling over Jisung’s legs, batting at each other’s heads and occasionally nipping if they found the opportunity. It as all in good spirit- both cats slowly becoming more daring as time past. An opening was created in Chan’s defense as he shot a look to Seungmin, who was groaning in happiness. Woojin took hold of the opportunity and pounced- directly landing on his soulmate, sending them both tumbling to the ground with loud meows. Together, they happily settled into a tight pile of white and gray fur.

Perhaps the most endearing lump was the pile on Jisung’s chest. Minho and Felix had managed to remain in their same positions throughout the night; but now, a small, black kit was nestled between them. Jeongin, though the smallest, was purring the loudest, thoroughly content in his position.

It was all incredibly precious. Jisung felt like he was melting and would do so happily if it meant that was how he was going to die. In the arms of fluffy, purring balls of happiness. 

“Yah!! Get up! You’re all terrible! It’s _ Sunday. _” Changbin’s anger quelled, the small victory of soothing Seungmin’s hyper body destroyed as he looked at the others who were all lazing about. The harsh tone faded into a high pitched whine- echoed unhelpfully by Seungmin- which caused Jisung to cringe into his pillow.

“Hyung~ what’re you talking about?”

“It’s _ Sunday. _ Which means these _ assholes _ are going to be like _ this _ all day. It’s their free day. And my- _ our _ -” he offered a sickeningly happy smile- “hell day. I hope you’ve taken care of animals before because these _ monsters _ make my life terrible. _ Every. Week.” _ The boy didn’t mean any harm- his bouncing lilt too sarcastic; still, it was obvious how Changbin exhausted was, just from the morning wrangle.

Arranging his limbs into a sitting position- much to the utter disdain of the cats- Jisung did his best to pull himself into some form of higher consciousness. Normally, he’d sleep in as long as possible to pass the hours in the day faster; but, now he had a reason to enjoy the day.

Without even thinking about it, the human lifted Jeongin up to his favorite spot on his shoulders. The youngest screeched at being separated away from his elders; upon realizing his new and nearly as warm position, the kit took to purring and nuzzling into Jisung’s neck. The soft sensations made Jisung laugh, returning the affection with a few light head shakes of his own.

Minho claimed his spot on his soulmate’s lap immediately after Jisung had settled, leaving a miffed Felix to slink off to _ his _ soulmate- who was more than happy to pick him up and run a few rough, long strokes down his body.

With the lack of attention, Seungmin whined and shoved his nose into Changbin’s stomach without hesitation. The boy briefly bent down and muttered something low into Felix’s ear before leveling Seungmin with a childishly threatening expression.

“You-! _ You _ need to calm down.” Seungmin sunk to the ground, whining once again. His tail wagged with force, the heavy thumping catching the attention of Jeongin who chortled from Jisung’s shoulder in mocking sympathy. Jisung laughed as Changbin leaned forward, chin jutted out as he continued reprimanding the dog: “no! You can’t look at me like that after how you’ve been acting all morning, I don’t care!”

Felix leaped down from the couch and climbed over the dog, flattening himself as if he were a living blanket.

“Don’t console you him- he’s been a brat all morning!” Changbin huffed, pulling Felix off of the dog and tucking him between his crossed legs. Jisung was slightly mortified as Changbin held Felix’s limp body in the air, using one of his paws to list of every action the dog had taken to annoy Changbin that morning. The orange cat’s expression was completely vacant, like his brain had taken a trip somewhere else- maybe a reality where he was treated as a conscious being and not a puppet.

Taking his chance during one of Changbin’s gaps to breathe, Jisung cut off the elder: “hyung. Is there anything I can do to help?”

Turning to look at the younger, Changbin’s face contorted into something out of a horror movie. “Can you~ Sungie? Caaaan you~” he sang, the pitches terribly mismatched.

Not knowing how to respond to the elder’s unwarranted mocking: Jisung just sat there awkwardly, lips pulled into a tight line.

They looked at each other for a few seconds, wordlessly, blinking.

Suddenly, Changbin looked away with a light blush and cleared his throat. “Normally, we start the day with a walk to the park around the corner. It helps them get pent-up energy out and gives me time to wake the fuck up.”

“Can I change, first?” It wasn’t even an argument of whether he’d go with, or not.

Changbin nodded sagely, recovering from his short-lived embarrassment with surprising finesse. Several thoughts seemed to pass through the elder’s head as he lowered his soulmate in his lap and fixated on smoothing out Felix’s coat.

Seconds later, he looked up, with mischief glittering in his eyes.

“You can borrow some of Minho-hyung’s clothes. They might be a little big, but I’m sure they’ll be fine, for now. He won’t mind.”

The cat in Jisung’s lap nuzzled into his stomach and purred, agreeing with the proposal.

The sudden vibrations startled Jisung. For some reason, he found it hard to believe that Minho, in his human form, would be so open to sharing his entire wardrobe.

Still, he mirrored Changbin’s earlier nod and got up from the couch. 

Understandably disgruntled, the purring turned into a sharp hiss. He could’ve been carried, or set down, or put on Jisung’s shoulders, but _ no. _ Jisung had just _ dumped _ him onto the ground. _ Again. _

Minho really had to teach the human some lessons in etiquette once he shifted back.

Unperturbed, Jisung made his way up to Minho’s barren room with relative ease. His ankle was feeling much better than it had been recently and the other injuries only throbbed occasionally. The vast difference made him really thankful towards the care the others had been putting forth in ensuring his speedy recovery.

With the utmost delicacy, Jisung pulled Jeongin down from his shoulders and placed his small body on the edge of the bed, in clear view of both the wardrobe and the closed door.

Minho trailed along, annoyed and chattering to himself, continued even after jumping onto the bed next to the youngest. He only stopped after Jeongin bopped him across the nose, none-too-politely.

Not wanting to invade, Jisung turned around, wringing his hands.

“You don’t mind if I borrow some clothes, do you?”

Minho answered with a slight tilt of his head, in the direction of the wardrobe. As if he was bored, the black cat lowered himself onto the bed. Yet, his tail- swiftly flopping back and forth- betrayed away his interest. Minho _ really _ \- for the first time _ ever _ \- wanted to see his soulmate in _ his _ clothes. Smelling like him. Soft and comfortable and very predictably- swamped in Minho’s over-sized clothes. The sweater paws might make his heart stop.

“Okay. If you don’t want me to touch… or wear something… just.. jump me or- yeah.” He felt awkward intruding into a space that was so impersonal but definitely used frequently.

The cat chuffed and looked at the ceiling; struggling to contain his much-too-strong adoration to a boy- _ his fucking soulmate- _who was much to precious for his own good. 

_ Did he just roll his eyes at me?! I’m just trying to respect his damn privacy, here. _

Peeved, Jisung closed the distance to the honey wood wardrobe and pulled the doors open. He was immediately hit by the strong scent of cinnamon, the clothes undeniably belonging to Minho. The thought made him flush; finally realizing what was about to happen. It felt different in comparison to the times he’d been given clothes at the cafe. Different- but not bad.

The space was… oddly confusing.

Rather than having articles hung on hangers or folded into piles: there were stacks of bundles, an entire rainbow on display in front of Jisung.

“Wow, uh. Okay.” Another weird quirk of his soulmate, Jisung supposed.

Turning back to the cats, Jisung’s expression contorted into a frown.

“Which one of these are your shirts?” The black cat pointedly closed it’s eyes, feigning ignorance. The sadistic part of him really wanted to watch Jisung struggle- payback for dropping him twice in less than twenty-four hours.

_ What the hell… does he really want me to go through all his stuff? _

The elder’s pettiness was too much for Jeongin. Particularly, on a day that was meant to be spent together, _ positively _ . _ His _ soulmate was already downstairs, ready, and waiting to go on their weekly walk. It was no time to be wasting on pointless squabbles.

Hopping down from the bed, Jeongin launched himself into the wardrobe. He _ barely _ made it, his rear paws scrambled for purchase on the smooth wood before he was able to haul himself inside. Latching onto the fabric balls, he crawled up to a light blue one at the top and paused. Meowing in triumph, he began shaking back and forth- his small tail following suit.

The stack wasn’t very secure, the blue bundle easily dislodged fell; the heavy lump almost immediately hurtling towards Jisung- distressed cat included.

Thankfully, the human’s reflexes were good. Still, the unexpected weight sent Jisung stumbling. Within a couple steps he stabilized and clutched the clothes to his chest. Exhaling, Jisung was relieved to find Jeongin perched at the top of the bundle- the kitten was surprised, but safe.

Jeongin meowed in thanks, promptly leaning forward to rub his head against Jisung’s cheek. His savior. _ Again. _

The affection lasted a few more moments, Jisung unable to contain his laughter with the soft fur tickling his face.

“Are these his shirts?” He raised the bundle, as if to clarify his question.

Jeongin chirped, before jumping down to the ground.

The action nearly gave Jisung a heart attack. How could such a small body survive such a long fall??

But the youngest landed unharmed and lightly padded over to a golden bundle that had fallen to the ground. Once he’d crawled to the top, Jeongin chirped.

He repeated the process for two more bundles, one red and the other purple. After the last one, Jeongin raced back over to his original spot on the bed, pressing himself into Minho’s side with an aggressive show of adoration. 

Taking the hint, Jisung pulled the identified bundles aside before carefully stacking the remaining ones back into the wardrobe.

Opening each of the identified, Jisung was easily able to find an entire outfit. He’d been surprised to find that the elder’s dress clothes were shoved away, wrinkled, right next to his casual clothes. And most of it had either been pastel or black. With very few in the spectrum between.

After listening to the pair paw and whine at the bathroom door for a couple of minutes, Jisung reappeared. Fully freshened up- hair rearranged, face washed, and clean clothes donned- the human felt happy.

Despite the off-putting room, being in Woojin’s house was _ nice. _ Everything he needed was conveniently located, there were no threatening voices or imposing sports teams to ruin his mornings, food was readily available.. Everything… was nice.

He’d purposefully chosen an all-black outfit, for the sake of the cat hair blending in: loose, joggers with stripes down the side; a much-too-big hoodie; and a baseball cap to draw attention away from the bruise that was still, very unfortunately, prominent on his face.

The moment that he opened the door, both of the cats rushed to paw at his ankles, their black masses twisting and twining around his legs before Jisung huffed and picked them up.

With Jeongin settled into his hood- the weight thankfully not enough to pull the collar of the sweatshirt tight- and Minho cradled in his arms, Jisung made his way back down to the living room.

Seungmin was the first to notice their re-entrance, the dog agitatedly began barking and yapping. He was _ so ready _ for the park.

Jisung laughed at the younger, shifting Minho to his hip so that he could pet the shiny coat in hopes of calming Seungmin. Unfortunately, the attention only served to increase Seungmin’s energy, as the pup unreservedly licked all over Jisung’s hand.

Changbin stood up from the couch, placing Felix on the ground, before walking over to the entryway.

“Okay- enough of that Seungmin, let’s go.”

At the elder human’s words, all of the animals- save for the two in Jisung’s possession- raced over to the door.

Holding a hand up, Changbin demanded silence. All the animals immediately sat at his feet, their attention given without question. “Before we go, remember that we’re only going for a couple of hours. Hyunjin- no terrorizing children. And Seungmin,_ I swear _ , don’t catch any squirrels. It’s okay to chase them- but they’re _ not _ presents. _ No _.” The dog whined as he danced in place- the thought of chasing the furry pests around nearly causing him to salivate.

Deciding that whatever was about to happen was going to be a... worthwhile... new experience, Jisung mustered as much energy as possible. “Let’s go!!”

“Not you, too..” Changbin muttered, slipping on a jacket. Before he opened the door and let the chaos that was their clan free, Changbin threw a plastic package at Jisung- nearly hitting Minho in the process.

Ears undeniably pink, the short boy turned away. “Breakfast.” It was a granola bar.

The walk to the park was short and refreshingly freeing. The cats raced around the humans, climbing the walls and darting through the alleys. Seungmin dashed ahead, too, sniffing at every new object. Watching the boys acting without reserve brought care-free smiles to both of the human’s faces.

At first, it had concerned Jisung- what if one of them fell and got injured? But, eventually, he became desensitized and focused on walking without putting too much pressure on his still-healing ankle.

Jisung was extremely grateful that the two with him were.. calmer: 

Jeongin’s low snores coming from Jisung’s hood had begun just minutes after they’d left the house. Small puffs of breath warmed the back of the human’s neck every so often, causing him to randomly giggle into open air.

Contrastingly, Minho was awake, but tense in Jisung’s arms. Each little crack or snap caught his attention, black ears immediately directing right towards the source of the sound. He wasn’t ready to be in public, yet. _ What if they find me? Us? We’ll all be in trouble. _

He wished for nothing more than the morning to pass without issue.

Jisung had tried to calm his soulmate by running a light hand down his coat, but the male only rumbled a low warning. Dispirited, the human gave up his attempts and settled for quietly following Changbin- who was busy having a seemingly one-sided conversation with Seungmin and Felix.

Given that it was mid-Sunday morning, the park was uncomfortably full. Families, elders, and children were all meandering around the area. To Jisung’s surprise, no one batted an eye when two boys showed up with an entourage of rambunctious animals.

The moment they set foot on the lush grass, Seungmin took off, Hyunjin and Felix close behind. The trio ran around the large, open space, dispersing flocks of birds throughout the area. A few children took notice of the disturbance, yelling and pointing at the rambunctious animals.

Minho shrunk away from the curious eyes, head stuffing into the gap between Jisung’s arm and torso. Thinking nothing of it, the human cooed and clutched the black cat closer.

Changbin shook his head fondly at the boys. Rubbing his forehead in fake exasperation, he turned to Jisung. “Wanna go find somewhere to sit?”

The younger nodded in relief. 

Not that he would ever admit to the discomfort- but, his arms were beginning to strain from the exertion of carrying Minho. Also, his leg, about halfway through the walk, chose to remind him that it wasn’t completely healed yet.

Together, they settled under a tree at the edge of the clearing. The wide overhang of the branches blocked the majority of the fall sun from their eyes, yet allowed enough through warm them. 

Spotting a perfect patch of sunshine between the boys, Minho squirmed out of Jisung’s arms and curled up in the warmth, back to the field. The black cat’s tail flicked back and forth, as he happily pushed his cheeks against the soft grass. 

It was a sight to see- the elder recently had been cooped up and stressed out over so many things. Jisung was glad that he- hell, _ everyone _\- was getting the proper time to recover.

Jeongin squeaked as Jisung relaxed and leaned his head back against the tree, nearly having been crushed.

Jerking forward, Jisung fumbled as he pulled the cat out of his hood, spewing copious apologies the entire time. His eyes nearly prickled with tears out of sheer, uncoordinated panic.

Watching intently, Changbin laughed and didn’t bother to lift a finger in aid.

The black kits fur was puffed out as he mewed directly into Jisung’s face. Though he was obviously disgruntled, sharp teeth on display with each cry, Jeongin was perfectly intact.

In apology, Jisung cuddled Jeongin to his chest- nuzzling vigorously into the soft fur with a high whine. The cat pushed his head up to meet Jisung halfway. He was forgiven. How could anyone ever stay angry at someone like Jisung?

Minho couldn’t believe it. Inhibitions pushed away in his feline form, he immediately acted on the unfamiliar selfishness that was sparked at Jisung’s actions.

With a low huff, he sidled over to Changbin and headbutted the human in the side.

Unlike Jisung, who had chosen to sit and watch their friends frolic, Changbin had immediately flopped to the ground and fallen into a deep daydream. It was nature that truly drove his inspiration in music- some of the best pieces that he had ever written were started from little melodies created under that exact tree. After all the pressure and crazy events, Changbin had _ really _ been hoping to get in some good Thinking Time for his future pieces.

Minho, of course, had a different idea.

When Changbin didn’t respond to the insistent nudging, Minho gave up and began crying. The sounds were drawn out and thin. Just loud enough to make all in the immediate vicinity cringe. The tone reminded Jisung of the obnoxious alley cats who would meow into the night until scraps were thrown out to the darkness. He had never expected Minho, unharmed, to cry so openly.

Jisung gaped at his soulmate, dumb-struck at the sudden desperate act. Minho’s ears were flattened so close to his head that Jisung wanted nothing more than to gather _ him _ up, too. To shower him with affection and guard the boy from whatever was troubling him.

Perched on branches above, Woojin and Chan heard the younger's cries and quickly joined in. The shrill and unforgivingly loud dissonance of the three drew dirty looks from various patrons.

Still, Changbin didn’t even bat an eyelash. His resilience was commendable. 

As the racket continued: Seungmin perked up in concern- a mistake that immediately allowed Hyunjin to jump onto the puppy's back while Felix energetically nipped at the younger’s paws.

“Chang-” Jisung started, wanting to get rid of the unwelcome glares.

“AGH! ENOUGH! ALL OF YOU BE QUIET!” Changbin bellowed, bringing his hands up to his ears in hopes of blocking out the sounds. The bass line he had _ just _begun to perfect slipped straight out of his fingers.

Obeying the command, the cats fell silent- apprehensively watching the scene.

Minho shrunk inwards and laid down along Changbin’s body, close but not touching.

A few tense moments passed before the small boy calmed enough to drop his hands from his head, nearly thumping Minho in the head as they fell back to his side.

“Jisung.” The addressed jerked, not expecting his name to be called. A strained noise at the back of his throat signalled his attention. There was an evident tiredness that came with whatever Changbin was about to say and Jisung wanted nothing more than for the day to pass without troubles. “How about you play with your soulmate?” 

Hearing the acknowledgement of their relationship from a third party made Jisung’s brain shake. He saw the continued movement of Changbin’s lips, but couldn’t process any sounds past the static in his head. 

The blood pounding in his ears was overwhelming. 

Mechanically, the younger human placed Jeongin on the ground; the kitten simply sitting down to watch the events play out, his tail flicking back in forth.

Deafened by his own stupefaction, Jisung didn’t hear Changbin’s mocking comment about how he “would entertain Innie while his precious friend was away~”, the word ‘soulmate’ continuously bouncing around his brain.

Jisung looked down at the larger black cat, eyes wide as his mouth forced out a broken “Mi- Minho-hyung?” which sounded foreign, even to his own ears.

His soulmate’s ears perked up slightly; though, the elder didn’t move from where he was sulking.

Woojin and Chan crawled their way down the tree, gracefully landing on opposite sides of Changbin’s body. Boldly, Woojin pounced directly onto the human’s stomach, the unexpected weight pulling a pained groan out of Changbin. 

Minho felt profound satisfaction through the act of retribution. Trust Woojin to always be understanding and fair- and ruthless.

Chan’s fluffy body pressed against Jisung’s legs; loud, melodic purrs carrying to the boy’s ears.

The warmth from Chan’s body and presence shot up Jisung’s body, immediately filling an emptiness and freeing his mind of pointless worries.

Jisung chuckled at the elder, unable to resist running his hand through the fluffiness. _ Hyung really does look like a cloud with legs. _

Chan acknowledged the petting with a strange, chittered _ merrrrrp. _

Changbin moved to support the eldest with another groan, his fingers kneading into the short gray fur with small, circling motions.

All of the open affection- and none of it for him!- compiled to make Minho feel worse.

A short yowl cut through the air, Jisung jumping- _ again- _at the loudness.

Annoyance repressed due to finally understanding the elder’s obvious, very petty, plan- Changbin chucked. Woojin was restricting Changbin’s interference, while Chan was very obviously making Minho _ more _ jealous. His hyung had never been difficult to read- for those in the clan, at least- and the eldest pair were _ definitely _ capitalizing on the new soulmate’s bond. Even Jeongin had caught on, his eyes glittering in amusement.

Giving in, Changbin freed a hand to pet down Minho’s coat, intending to alleviate some of the discomfort that was inevitably growing within the older. Shockingly, Minho swatted away the boy’s hand the instant it touched the back of his neck. A following hiss had Changbin frowning, playfulness and amusement melting into concern.

“Jisung.” Changbin reminded- voice far more gentle than before- his eyes never leaving the black cat. 

Sensing a shift in the environment, Chan unwound himself from Jisung- cutting off the moment with a few licks to Jisung’s hand.

The cloud floated over to Minho, pressing along his flank for a couple of seconds before sprawling onto his side near Changbin’s head.

Apprehensive at the reaction he’d receive, given that Minho had been unresponsive to even Chan’s apologetic sentiments, Jisung let out a long breath. 

He almost wanted to walk away. To leave the situation that could easily lead to his public embarrassment and long-lasting, internal shame.

_ Why did I even leave with them this morning? I could’ve just stayed in bed. A warm bed. Could’ve had a warm breakfast. None of this would’ve happened. _

He didn’t even know why Minho was being so…. _ Minho _. How was he supposed to solve a situation that they couldn’t even communicate properly in??

“..._ Hyung? _” They all knew who he was addressing. 

Minho stayed a dark line, ears flattened and tail tucked tight.

He was being rejected. _ Of course. _

Still, Jisung pulled together every ounce of courage he was ever in possession of, and tried again. He had to. Just to be sure. 

Dropping to his knees so fast that he felt a twinge in his ankle, Jisung spoke in a voice that he would normally use for a young child, “Minho?” The name wobbled, shaking just like the hand that he extended next to the elder’s head.

Seconds passed and Jisung’s heart nearly shattered with the pain of being _ so close _ but so far. A breeze rifled through his hair, the pressure feeling like a thousand pin pricks.

Then- Minho’s tail extended and began thumping against the grass in long motions. He rose and stretched, back bending into a high arch. As Minho moved, his body rubbed against Jisung’s extended limb, pushing around the oversized sleeve of his sweatshirt. Ending his cold shouldering stunt, Minho licked at Jisung’s palm before turning to look at the human expectantly.

Stunned, Jisung let out a laugh of relief and sank to his butt- finally freeing his knees from the awful position. Processing the sudden change created a strong surge of jubilance: Jisung scooped Minho up and jumped to his feet. 

Much like Changbin had done the night before, Jisung spun around- laughing brightly as the cat’s legs swung out in wide circles. His worries were for nothing. They were _ fine. _ Him and Minho? All good.

After a few revolutions, Jisung stopped and clutched Minho to his chest. For some reason, he felt like he was glowing. He was warm- mentally and physically. As if they could face any problem and it wouldn’t matter because they were together.

Noticing the considerable change in energy, the three that had been playing raced over and began jumping around Jisung’s legs. 

Minho, dizzy from the high emotions _ and _obnoxious turning, hacked in Jisung’s grip; leaning heavily into his human’s chest. 

Unfazed by the struggles of the elder, Jisung patted his back in consolation; yet, he couldn’t find it in himself to stop laughing. Jisung was _ happy. _

Temporarily ignoring the ruckus under them, Jisung smiled down at his soulmate. “Sorry, sorry. No more twirls- got it.” The cat nipped at the fabric of his sweater, agreeing with the comment but not appreciating how the human seemed to take pleasure in his misery. “Changbin-hyung said we should play though- so, let’s play! Everybody else is already here!”

Seungmin barked excitedly, tongue hanging out of his mouth.

Placing Minho to the ground, Jisung raced off. Felix shot ahead- an orange blur darting around the grass. 

Minho had the immediate pleasure of being chased by Seungmin and Hyunjin, the dog excitedly yipping every time he got close to catching the black tail.

Jisung quickly gave up running, wheezing within a few pitiful steps.

Collapsing in the middle of the field, the human giggled as he watched Felix weave and dodge through unsuspecting patrons and even disrupt a soccer game on the far side of the park.

Legs spread out, Jisung leaned back on his hands to completely take in the morning: The soft breeze was chilled; the grass was plush under his body; the Sun warmed his limbs- blissfully seeping into the black of his outfit. He was able to just.. sit back and enjoy life.

Jisung’s reverie was unpleasantly broken as Seungmin leaped over his legs in an attempt to _ finally _ catch Minho- his limitless energy had Jisung envious. Seungmin had been running around for at least half an hour- _ unbroken _.

The tables turned as Hyunjin suddenly changed directions and ran at Seungmin’s body- effortlessly leaping over the dog’s body to avoid a collision. The game of chase flipped, as the cats began chasing an ecstatic puppy around Jisung’s body. There were _ definitely _tactics and practiced maneuvers being employed by the two felines as they wove around each other, quickly causing the poor pup to whine and become disoriented. At one point, it even looked as if Seungmin was chasing his own tail in utter confusion.

As amusing as the ploys were to watch, Jisung pitied the canine and chose to intervene. Reaching out with quick hands, he grabbed Seungmin and pulled the dog into his lap, caging him with all four limbs.

It took Seungmin a few seconds of Jisung’s strained coaxing to understand what had happened; the intense wriggling soon died down.

The cats, with their primary target gone, quickly turned on each other. Their face-off was considerably more enduring. Both sunk low to the ground, tails high in the air as they waited for an opportunity to attack.

Jisung loosened his grip on the dog, allowing Seungmin to turn around now that he wasn’t afraid of him running off. It wasn’t that he was afraid, per say, more than he was concerned of the dog burning himself out without getting a break. Especially, since it didn’t seem like the boys got very many chances to be so free in their more animalistic forms. Cuddling Seungmin’s body _ totally _ wasn’t a selfish move, not at all fueled by his longing to play with a puppy for the first time ever.

Seungmin tilted his head at the look in Jisung’s eyes, which were undoubtedly betraying how excited he truly was.

“Play with me?”

Seungmin barked, licking a long line up the human’s face.

Releasing the dog completely, Jisung wiped away the slobber and put a bit of space between them before sitting criss-crossed. With child-like joy, he batted at one of Seungmin’s front paws.

The reaction had Jisung snickering as the puppy immediately pulled the paw away before slamming it back down- much too slow- at Jisung’s hand. The pattern repeated as Jisung played whack-a-paw, until the other got frustrated enough to lay down, flip over, and look at him with pleading eyes.

At that moment, Felix came racing back. Just as he reached the four, his paw caught on a hidden vine and he went tumbling into Hyunjin and Minho- who were in the midst of wrestling.

The collective screeches caught the attention of all nine males.

Changbin let out a yell, jumping up and running over to where Felix was laying dazed.

Woojin, miffed at being displaced so abruptly, hissed and moved to sunbathe beside his soulmate. The increased proximity was welcomed by both parties, their tails instantly intertwining and coming to rest between their bodies.

The prior clumsiness had resulted in Felix landing directly in front of Jisung.

Cautiously, Jisung dropped a hand to the orange cats scruff and kneaded at the tight muscles. Despite his eyes being shut, Felix could tell who was rubbing on him- he knew Changbin’s touch by heart- and allowed a subtle rumbling purr to vibrate through his body.

Jisung let out a long sigh, grateful that Felix hadn’t seemed to injure himself in a tragic accident. With a high whine, Seungmin crawled over and nudged the cat’s middle with his wet nose, an act that was apparently unwelcome as the dog was knocked away with a kick from one of Felix’s hind legs.

Kneeling down next to Jisung, Changbin pursed his lips. “Okay. That’s enough for you, today.” 

Felix chirped, a short note of disagreement breaking up the purring; though, his body seemed to follow Changbin’s comment without thought as he gathered himself to leave. Again, Jisung’s hand was licked before the cat turned away. 

Changbin stood and retreated back to his favorite tree, seemingly expecting Felix to follow. He paused within a few steps and looked downwards- expression annoyed as he found Felix not by his side. The expression quickly faded as he discovered the orange cat nuzzling against Seungmin’s flank, apologizing for his earlier smack.

The puppy evidently accepted the apology; as he licked over the orange pelt, grooming the parts that had been displaced during Felix’s tumble.

Crossing his arms and jutting a hip out, Changbin waited for his soulmate. The pure adoration in his expression made Jisung’s heart skip a beat, despite the emotions not being aimed at him. Maybe, one day, he and Minho would exchange similar looks.

Soon enough, Felix returned to the human’s side. Hyunjin and Seungmin trailed a distance behind, agreeing with the suggestion that it was a good time to relax.

Unbothered by what the majority was doing, Jisung flopped back into the grass- limbs spread out in a wide X.

Seeking out the comfort he’d been deprived of earlier, Minho meowed and sidled up to Jisung’s side. Ensuring that his presence was known, he pressed against Jisung’s legs and torso until he reached his jaw line. Shamelessly, Minho chirped repeatedly pushed his head into the warmth of his human’s neck- demanding attention.

At last, Jisung took the hint.

The younger kept his eyes closed as he pulled Minho onto his chest. This way, the weight of his soulmate was perfect- an existence that served to keep him grounded in the public space. 

His fingers were everywhere- absentmindedly pressing into and tugging at the cat’s fur. The touches were hypnotic for both of them, allowing them to just… exist. With each other and the world around them. Without intervention.

Minho purred as he lazily kneaded his paws into Jisung’s collar bones.

Though they heard the others come over, neither reacted; obstinately lost in their personal world of contentedness.

Quietly, Changbin laid on his side next to Jisung- spooning his soulmate.

The others filled in the gaps, leaving little room for movement once everyone was settled:

Seungmin in between Jisung’s legs with Jeongin (somehow dozing) attached to his back.

Hyunjin and Woojin curled up together in the space of Changbin’s bent legs. They licked at their fur; more a calming habit than out of necessity.

Chan spread out his thick body in the gap between the two humans, his tail contentedly flopping back and forth between their legs.

It was as if Jisung had found his home in a place that he’d never expected- the park that had started it all. He could’ve craned his neck and from the open field, he would’ve been able to see the very same bench that Minho had found him on.

Sure, he had encountered the elder first- potentially pulled in by the very connection that made them soulmates; but, it was Minho who had chosen to continue their meetings. Minho who had opened up and given Jisung a chance.

For his actions, Jisung found himself eternally grateful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You'll probably have noticed that updates for this fic are considerably slower than they have been- but that's because a different story has also intrigued me. SO~ updates for Seeing Shadows, if you don't already know, will be alternated with updates for this one.
> 
> °˖✧◝(⁰▿⁰)◜✧˖°


	39. [38]

The rest of the day was contrastingly peaceful. In the comfort of Woojin’s home they spent the hours lounging and eating Changbin’s (somewhat sketchy attempts at) cooking. Really- the boy had only overcooked ramen.  _ Once. _ But, Jisung wasn’t about to let him live down ruining  _ a microwavable food. _

Everything was peaceful.  _ Until, _ Changbin decided to unveil some information which sent a very embarrassed Minho hiding underneath the cushions of Jisung’s couch.

“So, Sung, have you decided what you’re going to do with Minho-hyung’s room?”

The question had Jisung baffled. He had no idea what Changbin was referring to. Sure, he’d love to enact  _ several _ differences in the awful, hospital-like room Minho called his own. However, that wasn’t his place and his raised eyebrow said as much.  _ Me? Minho-hyung’s room- what?! _ Surely, Minho had lived in the house long enough that he was fully capable of fixing that awful room.  _ Maybe, white is just his chosen aesthetic.  _ Then, again- The blankets at the cafe which were  _ Minho’s _ were black, not white.

The confusion and rapid firing thoughts were giving Jisung headache. And the fact that Minho was suddenly gone, previously having squirmed out of his hands to creep underneath the couch, wasn’t helping his quickly growing anxiety. What exactly where they expecting to do? Why was Changbin the one telling him, not Minho? 

Suddenly, Jisung felt a chilling chasm of differences between  _ their _ world and his. The weight of the youngest dozing on his shoulders became incredibly heavy- as if the kitten had somehow managed to smash him into the couch’s cushions

“Hey- hey, it’s okay. I didn’t know about it, either.” With a shrill noise, the black cat launched himself across the room, directly at the other couch. Minho hadn’t been avoiding the topic, per say, he just hadn’t found the opportunity to explain it to his soulmate, yet. Totally not awkward asking someone to decorate your room out of the blue.

As if he’d been expecting some retaliation after Jisung’s blatant confusion, Changbin caught Minho’s lithe body mid-air. Holding the panicking cat away from his important parts, Changbin laughed with glee.  _ Of course, he wouldn’t tell him. Hyung probably didn’t want to pressure him into anything. _

“You’ve seen how… empty.. his room is, right?” Jisung nodded, his brow scrunched, clearly unhappy with the memory of the space. “It’s tradition that soulmate’s decorate their mate’s living spaces. Like, how there’s so many pictures of us around here-” Changbin gestured with his head at the walls of the living room- “Woojin-hyung’s mother designed this space for Dr. Kim. I did Felix’s room and he did mine.”

Rather than be off-put by the tradition, Jisung clapped his hands in excitement. He couldn’t  _ wait _ to get rid of all that white. Though, a twinge of anxiety spiked in his heart- would Minho like what he created for him?  _ What if he hates it?  _ It wasn’t like his soulmate was incapable of changing the designs to fit whatever he liked-  _ Maybe he likes the white? _

A question popped into his head. Immediately, his hands froze mid-clap. “Wait- does that mean Hyung…”  _ waited this entire time? For me?  _ He lived in a room that constantly reminded of his lack of a soulmate? Jisung was going to be sick.

Even if he hadn’t had his own room… ever… Jisung had always daydreamed that he’d eventually have a space of his own; a personal sanctuary where there were no leaking tarps or threats of flooding. 

Jeongin, who had long since woken due to Minho’s screeching, nuzzled into the space behind Jisung’s ear as if to say ‘you deserve it Hyung’. After all, he and Seungmin were the only ones who had witnessed Jisung’s shocking knowledge of the homeless encampment all those days ago. Neither had directly addressed the topic since, but it wasn’t too hard to picture the place that Jisung had been living in before.

Automatically, Jisung brought his hand up to scratch lightly at the cat’s fur. The whole suddenness of the idea had the human’s mind spinning; the presence of the feline turning into a tether- something for Jisung to focus on outside of his head.

The night that Jisung had spent in Minho’s left him feeling extremely off-kilter. It wasn’t anything like he’d pictured. Hell, the classrooms at his school were more personalized.

Lowering Minho into his lap, Changbin held the cat’s resisting body still with ease. He didn’t even flinch as the elder tried to scratch at his arm; simply running the tips of his fingers down the cat’s coat, fully aware the topic was rather sensitive. But, obviously- Minho wasn’t going to approach it anytime soon. And everyone in the clan and their siblings were tired of seeing the boy suffering pointlessly.

Really- it was comical how quickly Jisung took to the idea, already fidgeting as he thought of the possibilities.

“Yeah. The spare room has always been for his soulmate.  _ Your _ room is completed.”  _ Been that way for a while  _ hung on the tip of the elder’s tongue.

_ The spare room was never actually a spare. It’s ...mine? I have… a room? _ The potential ownership sat oddly with Jisung. Passing images of Minho aching over color schemes and furniture designs flowed through his mind.  _ It had to be terrible… doing that for a mate that you didn’t even know existed. _ Living with that hope...

It lit a fire within Jisung- he  _ had _ to create a space for Minho that was  _ perfect _ . Nothing less would be acceptable for the boy who had gone through such terrible hardships in his life.

“Can I…”  _ go see it? _ the question died on his tongue before it was completed.

Softly, Changbin shook his head. Looking at the cat in his lap, a sad smile on his face, he spoke in a soft tone: “it’d be best if you wait for him to change back. It’s…” the boy drew in a long breath, remembering the high emotions that had flowed when he and Felix had revealed their rooms to each other. It was one of those rare times that Changbin really did seem like Jisung’s hyung. “It’s an important experience. For both of you.”

Immediately not wanting to overstep his boundaries, Jisung nodded. He could wait.

Turning his gaze back to Jisung, Changbin was slightly flushed. “I can show you my room some time- if you want to see it. I’m sure the others would show you theirs, too, if you ask.”

“That’d be great, hyung.” He smiled, eyes crinkling into crescents, as a myriad of ideas flowed into his brain. Although he already had a strong concept in mind for his soulmate’s room, Jisung was incurably insatiable when it came to the curiosity of how each of the other pairs (and trio) approached the tradition.

He had a sneaking suspicion that Felix had made Changbin’s room into something of a joke while the elder had put his utmost effort into his soulmate’s room. He couldn’t wait to see the decor. Maybe, it’d help him fluff out his concept.

Shortly after the human’s conversation died down, Minho had slunk back to Jisung’s side. Uncharacteristically cuddly, he had crawled right up to Jisung’s face and pushed their noses together before curling up on that very spot.

The unexpected action left Jisung stunned- he’d been so into the drama on the television he hadn’t even noticed his soulmate’s proximity until the light layer of cold vanished, leaving behind a much welcomed blanket of acceptance in its absence. 

Shortly after Minho had claimed his spot, growling lowly every time Jisung rearranged into a more comfortable position, Jeongin flopped down next to the elder. Tucked into a spot between the larger cat and the back of the couch, Jeongin purred. To Minho’s annoyance and Jisung’s amusement, the youngest wiggled around until he got the attention- in the form of licks and pats- he sought out.

The boys spent the majority of the day asleep, only waking up for meals and brief toussels before falling back into piles unconsciousness. The two eldest, unlike the rest, had disappeared upstairs almost immediately after returning from the park. Their absence didn’t seem to bother Changbin, who easily took the reigns in ensuring that everyone was fed and happy. It was the one day of the week they actually listened to him and he wasn’t about to let the opportunity go to waste. Seriously. Using ‘no dinner if you keep biting Seungmin’s tail’ was crazy effective. 

Not that he’d ever let any of the boys go hungry on his watch.

Though, it was rather comical for all uninvolved parties to watch Seungmin be dominated by Hyunjin and Felix; the fearsome duo kept mercilessly snapping at the dog’s fur as he jumped around the room. Matching Jeongin’s squeaks, Jisung quickly took the dog’s side, cheering ecstatically whenever Seungmin managed to bat away one of his tormentors.

Some point in the afternoon, Jisung had fallen asleep, lulled into unconsciousness by the soft rumbles that vibrated through his chest. 

He’d awoken to Dr. Kim kneeling by his side and gently shaking his shoulder, expression apologetic. He was still dressed in work clothes. The sharp, sterile smell rolling of him and quickly overwhelming Jisung’s nose, causing him to cringe into the couch and not register who, exactly, was in front of him.

“Do you mind if I check your ankle, Jisung? Changbin’s in the kitchen making dinner and I have a meeting later, so this is the only time I have to, today.”

The foriegn voice finally reached Jisung’s consciousness. He hid for a moment more, a strong sense of embarrassment tinting his entire body pink. There he was, completely relaxed in this man’s house- not even having the decency to properly greet him. If the couch would just.. eat him alive. That would be great.

Fumbling against the sleep that plagued his brain, Jisung nodded frantically, “I-  _ uh...  _ yes, sir. Th- that’s fine. Thank you.” In his panicked effort to sit up and provide the doctor with his foot, Jisung managed to knock both Felix and Hyunjin off the back of the couch, kick Seungmin who was snoring between his legs,  _ and _ cause the two black cats on his chest to nearly tumble to the ground. Thankfully, his reflexes kicked in and he managed to do  _ one _ thing right: catch Jeongin around the midriff before he fell.

Dr. Kim, laughing, easily stopped Minho’s descent, though the cat was less than happy about the overall situation. Pushing his way out of the doctor’s arms, making sounds that could only be translated as a long string of grumbling complaints. Fur puffed, Minho stalked out of the room, following his nose to where Changbin supposedly was cooking.

Nobody had ever asked him about it- but Minho, in his cat form, required constant attention. It was something that all of his clan members had become accustomed to, no longer seeing it as an unnatural occurrence. And if his soulmate was dead set on dropping him on the ground every other time he fucking moved, Minho would settle for Changbin.

Only after double and triple checking that there was nothing that Jisung needed, Changbin retired to his own room with a sleepy Felix wrapped up contently in his arms.

There wasn’t anything he wanted or needed- the day had been one of the best he’d had in a while. And, even if there was, Jisung wasn’t helpless. He knew where the glasses and snacks were kept in the kitchen- not that he would take anything in Woojin’s house without asking first.

Thus, the house settled. A light rain was falling against the windows, creating a subtle background against the television which Jisung was only absentmindedly listening to. Really, his attention was drawn to the same place that it had been  _ a lot _ recently.

Minho.

The black cat was curled up on his stomach, seemingly interested in the thriller/ drama; the plot of which had been lost on Jisung for a while now. 

The elder’s strike hadn’t lasted very long at all; primarily due to Changbin’s overly-wise advice earlier: “You can’t expect him to do everything perfect at the start, you know. If he messes up, let him know and hopefully he’ll get the picture. It’s not knowledge that people are born with, you have to train them how to treat you. I’m sure it’ll be fine, hyung, just give him time.”

“Hyung?” His voice came out scratchy and high, causing Jisung to flush at the unintentional rawness.

The word had Minho turning around, his ears perking up.

“What’s going to happen tomorrow…” He hadn’t brought it up all day. Jisung had been avoiding the thoughts all weekend, honestly. But, time was running out. Though it was a bit ridiculous to expect Minho to respond, the worries were keeping Jisung wide awake and he felt the need to express them _ somehow _ to  _ someone _ .

His hesitancy was blaringly evident and Minho shuffled to push his head against the human’s chin. The small show of affection smoothed out the creases on Jisung’s face, a small smile gracing his features. Minho purred openly, happy that he’d relieved at least a little part of his soulmate’s stress.

Reminded of the time days ago, where he didn’t even know that Mr. Lee was  _ Minho,  _ Jisung exhaled and let his mind run free: “I just… school? I don’t want to go. I-” he choked on the barbaric thoughts that blossomed. “They’re going to find me, aren’t they? All I want…” Jisung attempted to distract himself as he ran his hands down Minho’s unfairly soft coat. “All I want is to graduate. And for you to stay safe? It’s not fair that you have to hide everywhere you go.” Hoping his growing flush was hidden by the night, “you’re beautiful as a cat, hyung. You shouldn’t have to hide… It’s not fair.”

Minho froze, his rumbling replaced with a high, drawn out, whine.

Unphased, Jisung continued, “really. Why do hunters even exist? What gives them the right to think they’re better? You guys are all.. so nice? I can’t even imagine why they… what makes them do such awful things.” Speaking to the ceiling, the human closed his eyes as the frown returned. “Haven’t they done enough? What do they gain? How fucked up are these people that-” Two paws landed softly on his lips, silencing Jisung’s spiraling rant.

Jisung’s eyes shot open and he froze- trying to understand exactly what had just happened.

With a startled yelp: Minho’s paws slipped, causing him to fall chest first onto Jisung’s face.

The change in position was unexpected by both parties. Even more surprising, was when Jisung turned his head away and  _ laughed. _ Heartily- loud enough to wake the entire house. 

The sound shocked Minho- a first- but he responded in kind with a piercing yowl. Fuck the others trying to sleep. He was  _ proud. _ His soulmate was laughing- because of  _ him. _ Unfiltered animalistic pride took over as Minho’s tail energetically flicked back and forth. 

“Hey- if you wanted to hug me, you could’ve just said so.” The sass in the human’s voice was overwhelmingly confident. And Minho never wanted it to go away.  _ Here _ was the boy he had met in the cafe, prideful and confident. Unhindered by thoughts of money and violence.

Rather than move the weight away from his head, Jisung hugged the cat to him- wiggling his head back and forth against the fur of Minho’s underbelly.

The joy continued for a few moments before Jisung sat up, cradling Minho’s relaxed body against him as the elder fell with gravity. Sprawled on his back against Jisung’s legs, Minho stared up at Jisung with open awe. 

Rather than take advantage of the unusual openness Minho was showing, Jisung scratched behind Minho’s ear. He couldn’t stop smiling, worries washed away from the consolation his soulmate was giving. They didn’t need to speak to understand each other.

“Thank you.” Jisung knew it was weird- how quickly he had been placated. His mood shouldn’t be so blatantly affected by his soulmate. Yet-  _ it was. _ And he was okay with it. He should probably have been more cautious about baring his soul... 

_ It's Minho. It’ll be okay. We’ll be okay. _

Jisung hoped that, eventually, he would be able to do the same for Minho; to easily draw him out of any negativity that could ever come his way. Or just prevent it from occurring at all.

A strong wave of protectiveness startled Jisung.

His mind blanked as he felt the sudden development that sparked between him and Minho.

With a short meow, Minho leaned into Jisung’s hand.

The human smiled, light tiredness overtaking his body as the vicious thoughts faded away.

Gathering the cat’s pliant body into his arms, Jisung laid back and turned towards the couch- trapping Minho’s body in the small gap. Stretching out, Minho groaned and settled within the arms of his soulmate.

The moment was perfect. The rain. The soft orchestral soundtrack of the drama. The fluffy blankets and warm house. His  _ soulmate.  _ Jisung couldn’t possibly ever ask for more.

The morning was uncomfortably domestic.

Chan was back to his human self; taking it upon himself to wake up Jisung  _ way too early _ . The elder’s warm smile and soft words in no way made up for the awful and unexpected 05:00 wake up call.

Even worse: when Jisung groaned out a reluctant “I’m gettttingg uppp mooommm” and proceeded to fall back to sleep,  _ Minho _ took great pleasure in waking Jisung up, himself.

The cat, much too excitedly, weaseled his way directly up to the younger’s chest, plopped his paws onto Jisung’s puffy morning cheeks, and kneaded away.

The incessant pulling and pushing, paired with loud purring eventually woke Jisung as the human couldn’t seem to find a position that would make Minho leave his poor face alone in.

Grumbling, the human rolled off of the couch- dropping Minho to the ground  _ again _ \- and dragged himself to Minho’s bathroom to freshen up.

Chan had seen the boy’s (totally not adorable and pouty) zombie walk from the kitchen and took the chance to yell a much-too-awake: “don’t take too long- we need to make a stop at the cafe before you can leave for school!”

Jisung half-waved a hand in acknowledgement, grumbling something unintelligible before stomping up the stairs. He  _ really _ was not a morning person. Jisung had grown too pampered over the long weekend, becoming used to the comforts of not being on a schedule much too fast.

In his dazed state, Jisung made the mistake of entering the bathroom and promptly shutting the door behind him.

Minho  _ insisted _ on being let into the bathroom. Of course, he did. Who does anything alone, these days? Certainly not Han Jisung.

He tried blocking the cat out, grimacing as he brushed his teeth; but Minho was absolutely  _ not _ having it. The second the  _ click _ of the lock had been heard, Minho started yowling bloody murder. Non. Stop.

The cries carried on through the entire time Jisung undressed. Grumpy, the human wrapped a towel around his waist and jerked the door open with a frustrated: “WHAT COULD YOU POSSIBLY WANT? I’M TRYING TO SHOWER. DO YOU WANT TO SHOWER!? OBVIOUSLY YOU DO- LET’S SHOWER, HYUNG.”

If he’d been loud with the door separating them, Minho’s volume doubled as Jisung scooped the cat up and walked into the shower stall. Towel and all.

Much to the elder’s utter hatred, Jisung returned his glare. In overly-dramatic slow motion, Jisung put his hand on the hot water knob and  _ turned it. _

A small stream came out of the shower head, just enough for water to make the pipes hiss.

Minho all but screamed. The mere thought of being forced under water caused his cat instincts to scramble and panic.

With a boisterous laugh, Jisung turned the water off and gleefully hopped back out into the bathroom. His towel wasn’t even wet- the shower head had been pointed directly at the wall.

Relief cut off the yowling, a short note of confusion resounding through the room.

The sound caused Jisung to laugh harder, nearly doubling over and hitting his head against the counter.

It took him a minute to gather himself, cheeks red and eyes watering.

“I would never- did you actually think I would shower with you? As a cat?  _ Really, hyung? _ ” The chuckling continued as Minho looked away, embarrassment somehow flooding his expression. “Okay.” He took a moment to breathe, amusement filling his voice as he thought about a way to appease his soulmate after scaring the shit out of him. “How about this: you stay  _ here-  _ since you wanted to be in here so bad.” Shifting Minho to his side, Jisung pulled a spare towel out and placed it onto an open spot on the counter top. Rearranging it into a loose nest, Jisung patted the fabric with a satisfied smile before settling his frumpled soulmate in the center.

The cat refused to look at him as he curled up in the circle and faced away from Jisung.

“Alright-” needing to reassure himself that it was just an act and Minho wasn’t  _ actually _ mad at him- “I’m sorry, okay? It was just a joke~” He ran a hand down the elder’s coat, transfixed as the hackles settled underneath his touch.

Jisung received no response as he stepped back into the shower, only taking his towel off  _ after _ the door was shut, separating him and Minho.  _ Maybe I took it too far. _ Slinging the white fabric over the top of the door, Jisung turned the water on and stepped underneath the warmth with a soft hum.

It was still strange to him- having a private (or, semi-private given Minho’s presence) shower. His mind wandered as he took in the clinical cleanliness that encompassed this room, as well. Daydreams of various fixtures and color schemes filled his mind as he washed, not even thinking twice as he used the set of soap that was definitely Minho’s.

Jisung hummed to himself throughout the entire time he showered- various rhythms and melodies ringing through the bathroom as he remained lost in his thoughts.

In the kitchen, Jisung found Woojin and Chan dancing around each other in a comfortable familiarity.

Chan was the first to notice the younger’s presence, smiling as he noticed a miffed Minho trailing along behind the boy.

“I’m not picking you up! I don’t want to be picking cat hair off of my clothes all day!” Jisung had said earlier, leaving the cat on the counter to whine about the loss of his soulmate’s touch. 

He still needed to go get his uniform from his backpack, which had been carelessly forgotten back at the cafe. Stubbornly, Jisung didn’t want to indulge the bond while knowing the empty coldness he was going to feel all day. He hated being so dependent on someone else, even if Minho was potentially the one he trusted the most in the entire world.

Internally, he sympathized with the emotions in the broken-hearted whines. Really- he did. He  _ knew  _ the day was going to suck. All weekend, they’d been in the immediate presence of each other. There hadn’t been a single period of time in which they had been separated for more than… maybe, an hour?

He was a fool and he knew it. 

A single hour suddenly changing into… nine? Eight- if he sprint-hobbled directly to and from the elder? He could’ve prepared better for the misery, but… Han Jisung was a fool that had been drunk on his soulmate. All. Weekend. Long.

“G’Morning, Sungie.”

“Morning.” The word was more of a groan as Jisung flopped across the kitchen’s island.

Ruffling the younger’s still wet hair, Woojin pushed a plate under his nose. “Sorry it’s so early, but we need to stop at the ca-”

“I already reminded him~!” Chan sang, knocking his shoulder against his soulmate’s as he brought both their plates to the island. Considerably more food was on Chan’s plate than anyone else’s. 

Jisung didn’t mention it.

“Are you guys coming with?”

Chan’s cheeks were already filled, so Woojin took the chance to answer: “Of course.” The words were warm, but several hidden reasons fueled them: the hunters; Jisung’s injuries that could flare at any moment; and also, the two elder’s were in charge of the cafe today. “Your crutches are still there. And even if you don’t want them, we both were thinking that it would be a lot better if you keep them with you for a bit. At least, until the competition is over.”

_ They’re potential weapons. _ Jisung realized, the fact dawning on him.

He couldn’t find it in himself to disagree. Honestly, Jisung’s brain was just doing it’s best to keep up with the necessary functions to live; still too dormant to process anything more complicated than basic tasks. The burst of energy he’d found while teasing Minho had been purely instinctive- and completely draining.

The eldest couple chatted about their plans for the day, tasks that were going to have to be completed so that the cafe could open tomorrow. Jisung didn’t have the will to listen, merely letting their baritones fade into a far off drone.

Soon enough, Jisung was washed, clothed, fed, and on his way to the cafe. Upon their insistence, the elders walked on either side of him- acting as his own, personal sentinels for the short walk. Minho was as close as he could possibly be to Jisung without touching him (in Woojin’s arms); on-edge, a guard-cat if there ever was one.

Unfortunately, the rain hadn’t let up over night. As the centerman, Chan had deemed Jisung to be the one in charge of their overly-large umbrella, the sides  _ just  _ big enough to shield them all if the trio walked shoulder to shoulder.

The proximity brought warmth and calmness, the elder’s chatter still carrying on.

Their distraction and mutual adoration was evident as they walked on, playful comments and words being thrown around easily. Woojin even issued a challenge to his soulmate: “whoever bakes the best cookies today doesn’t have to clean up!” A proposition that Chan was quick to accept.

It was Jisung who saw it first:

The shattered glass.

His nightmare was real.


	40. [39]

He, with all fibers of his being, hoped it was just a mirage. Some rays of light distorted by the rain and early morning drowsiness.

But, with a sinking feeling, Jisung knew it was undeniably real.

Dropping the umbrella, he halted and sharply jerked the elders to his side.

Woojin, in possession of a cat who was entirely displeased about becoming even slightly wet, cussed and tensed. Turning on Jisung with misdirected annoyance, he barked out a sharp, “what the fuck, Jisung?” 

Woojin had never cussed at him before. 

Though, it fell on deaf ears as Jisung was frozen in place, staring at the cafe’s front, just barely holding his trembling body upright.

Chan stayed silent and took in the situation. His gaze followed Jisung’s. 

Before Woojin could continue his confused questioning, Chan hushed him and pointed at the shattered door.

Strategically thrown near the handle, there was a gaping hole that would have allowed anyone to reach through and open the door. It would be a miracle if the entire cafe had not been torn apart by nature and miscreants.

The eldest immediately fell silent, strong aggression transforming into the innate need to protect. In a series of movements too fast for Jisung to process: Woojin yanked his arm away; shrugged out of his jacket; wrapped it around a yowling Minho and shoved the bundle at the human’s side. 

On instinct, Jisung clung to his soulmate. Even if the terrifying memories of his nightmare were racing through his head, consuming all of his attention, Jisung’s body unquestioningly guarded his soulmate.

Strong hands steered the two boy’s under the cafe’s awning. They followed, compliant under the dominating nature of the eldest.

Minho was, by far, the most present in the moment. In Jisung’s arms, he squirmed and put all his strength into escaping the wretched entrapment Woojin created. His efforts were futile. Clutched against Jisung’s chest, it was impossible to miss the younger’s white knuckles that had yet loosen from Chan’s arm. He stilled, unwishing to cause Jisung more strife.

Walking to their fronts and bending down slightly, Woojin took turns looking both of the shell-shocked boys in the eye. “Stay here. Look out for each other. Keep Min dry. If anyone comes by, run. I don’t care where. Just get out of here and I’ll come find you later.”

It wasn’t the rain that caused the water to fall down Chan’s face. If Jisung had been triumphing against his fear before, he was struggling considerably more now. He couldn’t tell if it was him or the elder shaking.

The blonde’s mouth opened to interject and stop Woojin’s pointless bravery; but all that came out was a broken whine.

All eyes turned to the boy.

Several emotions flashed between the elders; a connection so old and stable that it seemed to have its own frequency for communication.

As if he were talking to a precious child, Woojin cupped Chan’s cheeks and cooed. “I’ll be fine, cloud. Just going to check the cafe and I’ll be right back. You won’t even have time to miss me.” The responding whimper said otherwise. “Take care of them. I love you.”

With a chaste kiss to Chan’s forehead, Woojin turned away.

To their horror: he didn’t even need to reach through, the door opened with a single nudge.

They had  _ definitely  _ locked up before leaving for the weekend.

_ How long has it been like this? _ To Jisung’s memory, none of the boys had been back in a couple of days. How foul was it that one of the only times the cafe had closed in recent  _ years-  _ it had attacked in such a savage way? He was thankful none of them had been present. The thought of malicious attackers hurting the boys- in  _ any _ of their forms- made his blood boil.

Underneath Jisung’s hand, Chan shook. Uncontrollably fixated on the entryway, they waited with bated breaths for Woojin to return.  _ Unharmed. _

Combinations of possible intruders-  _ hunters-  _ and threatening messages flooded Jisung’s brain. What he yearned to do to a person who dared to raise a finger against his clan. Emotions running high, Jisung found himself glad the elder was with him to ground his mania. 

As if the actions were predetermined, Chan and Jisung turned into each other- squishing Minho- in an effort to seek out comfort.

He pitied the older, who dropped his head rather harshly to Jisung’s shoulder and sounded on the verge of a complete breakdown. If Minho was in there, he wouldn’t be in a very different state.

Jisung  _ had _ to get his shit together. 

For Chan’s sake.  _ Chan _ , who had held and comforted him through so many unspeakably awful parts of his life.

It took a few moments for Jisung to completely drag himself out of his head- redirecting his focus onto Minho and the most minute parts of the world around him. The wind was cold. Stray raindrops were made Jisung shiver into the embrace- even though Chan was the one whose back was to the street. Faint sounds of students and businessmen on their daily commutes were steadily growing louder. And so was Chan’s breathing.

“Hyung.  _ Channie-Hyung.” _ Jisung attempted, his voice down at a whisper; both, afraid of scaring Chan and making their presence more known than it already was.

The older boy jumped and pressed closer, seemingly unaware of where the words originated from.

With his free hand, Jisung reached up and combed through Chan’s hair.

If he was so lost within his own head that words didn’t work- well, that was almost better for Jisung. He was never that great at communicating (verbally), anyway.

The repetitive motion coaxed Chan into a relaxed state, practically his entire weight drooping onto the younger. And, Jisung was- rather inappropriately, given the circumstances- thoroughly pleased. The blonde locks were undeniably soft and fluffy. It was unfair how sleek all of the shifter’s hair is. Maybe, with proper rest and care- his would become similar.

Humming came naturally to Jisung. What came out was a melody that had been stuck in his head for quite some time; yet, he’d been unable to get it out and properly translated into his music. It was low and lilting- hopeful, but peacefully somber at the same time.

He found himself drowning in it, enraptured by the tune. Jisung turned slightly, to press his forehead into Chan’s neck where he could feel the other’s pulse beating strongly- panic still present.

Slightly out of breath, Woojin ran out of the cafe.

Chan tore away from Jisung and instinctively latched onto his soulmate. Like an infant- his legs and arms locked tightly together. 

The sudden change in temperature surprised Jisung; the stark cold overtook his mind and body as the temporary bubble of peace vanished. 

Woojin took the additional weight without issue. His arms automatically came up to support Chan’s thighs as if it was a rehearsed motion.

“It’s clear. No one’s in there.” Chan gasped, a heavy and choked inhale of pure relief. His soulmate hadn’t been gone more than a few minutes- but it was more than enough time to concoct terrifying scenarios of what could’ve been. 

The hunters couldn’t ruin his life again. Never again. Not right in front of him. He wouldn’t survive it. 

Whispering words of calm reassurance into Chan’s ear, Woojin let his soulmate cling. Even once his arms began to burn with the strain, he’d never release Chan until he was ready. Even if he had to carry him inside and sit with him clinging like a koala, Woojin wouldn’t let him go. Not again.

Jisung took the opportunity to rearrange Minho so that the cat was protected from the weather and had the viewpoint to take in the situation. As it was, the cat’s ears were constantly flicking around, his nose twitching with each passing breeze. Minho was on high alert. It made Jisung wonder how enhanced the older’s senses were in his current form.

Hiking the fur ball higher, Jisung startled as Minho stretched to lick at his jaw. The rough tongue scraped across his skin and the human jerked away at the unfamiliar sensation. Speechless, Jisung could only stare down in shock.

Large eyes glittering with the rising sunlight, Minho looked as innocent as any animal possibly could.

Influenced by Chan’s overwhelming relief and the stark difference between this scenario and the one in his dream, Jisung’s expression broke into a wide smile. He’d lived through a terrible series of events related to the shattered door. Been broken by it. But, this time was already different: Jisung wasn’t alone. He refused to let the threats affect him; wouldn’t cry or lose himself in possibilities that could drive him insane. Not if his own fortitude would kindle an environment that could help Chan. 

For once, Jisung felt like  _ he _ could be the one to stand strong.

Already, so much had changed since he’d experienced the nightmare. Subtle differences had been occurring ever since he’d stumbled over Minho that one fateful night. If he continued to feel such empowerment, no matter how small, Jisung knew he was on the right path. Something like hope, which he had never dared to even fathom before, was born within him at that very moment.

Hope to find the confidence to become himself. Fully and truly. Without reservations. Maybe, with Minho by his side, he could do it. 

A wave of appreciative affection washed over Jisung with the discoveries; he nuzzled into Minho’s head, giggling when the cat chittered back. 

Without breaking the moment, Jisung questioned, “Woojin-hyung, did you find anything else in there? Like, something that broke the window?”  _ Really- how is Minho- hyung’s fur so soft? _ He’d muss his fingers through it all day- if he could.

Woojin nodded, before realizing that Jisung couldn’t see the response, the side of his face rubbing against Chan’s hair in the process. He hummed a note of confirmation into the blonde fluff. “How about we go inside and we’ll talk about what to do?”

The eldest was careful to avoid hitting Chan against the frame as he crossed the entryway. It was a slight challenge, given that they were definitely the bulkiest out of the clan, but he made due. Chan had suffered enough already.

Apprehensive, Jisung trailed behind. Though he had an idea of what he’d find, the goosebumps that had crept up his body couldn’t seem to settle. Hidden behind the shield of the elder couple, Jisung peered around with wide eyes- careful not to miss any detail that seemed out of place. Just in case.

No one bothered to flip on the lights as they settled into their typical booth in the back corner of the cafe- as far from the broken door as the setup allowed.

Chan whined when he was placed down, though he was quickly placated when Woojin slid in and pulled him in tight. 

Tucked into the crook of his soulmate’s neck with an arm thrown across the Woojin’s waist, Chan sighed and closed his eyes. The morning had already gone on too long. He just wanted the damned competition to be over already. Then- everything could go back to normal.  _ Just one more week. _

Jisung took the opposite bench and lightly settled Minho onto the table. His arms stayed in a loose circle- as if to keep the cat from running away from him. 

The worry was baseless. Within his tight bounds, Minho wormed around until he could press the majority of his body against Jisung’s torso. 

The silence broke when Woojin pulled out an object out of one of his pockets and placed it in the middle of the table.

It was a rock.  _ The _ rock.

On it, gruesomely etched into the craggy, gray surface, were the words:  ** _FOUND YOU_ **

Jisung frowned.

His body- though it starkly remembered the panic- disconnected. It was probably for the best, honestly. So, he let it happen. 

The panic, which was very obviously overwhelming Chan, didn’t reach him. Like a switch had been flipped, the emotions were ushered away from his consciousness. Jisung felt strangely calm.

With a hum, he picked up the rock to inspect it.

It was dry- so the attack couldn’t have been recent given the current weather. The words were formed by shallow, incongruent slashes. An image arose of some meat head maniacally slicing into the surface- a thick knife creating sparks as it cut through the jagged stone. The sickly satisfied grunts that would come with the finished product, the person fully aware of what the object would be used for.

A part of Jisung that was as equally sick as the assholes who had done laughed: a low, deep chuckle that resonated in the silence as he rolled the rock around in his palm. 

_ If they didn’t do anything to the cafe- what was the purpose of ruining Hyung’s door? Couldn’t just leave a letter? Are they too scared to actually face him-  _ us _ ? Pathetic, aren’t they. Can’t even show their faces when they threaten someone. If they’re going to play like this- they could at least do that much. Really. How disgusting. _

Jisung scoffed as he placed the rock in front of Minho, for the cats viewing pleasure. Minho merely sniffed at it before turning away and curling into his soulmate’s body.

“What are you thinking?” Woojin’s eyebrow was raised as he stared at Jisung’s sudden, hysteria. He had expected to be comforting two crying boys- not for one of them to be losing their marbles whilst looking at a rock.

It took Jisung a few seconds to gather his thoughts into something that wouldn’t reveal just how twisted they had truly started as: “whoever did this- which is obviously some faction of the hunters after Minho because of the competition- is pathetic.” Chan’s eyes shot open at the dark tone the younger had taken. He didn’t move from his hold on Woojin- but Jisung certainly had the attention of all in the room. “They want us to be scared- terrified of the power they think they have.”

“You don’t understand what they’re capable of…” Chan whispered, the shaking tone pitifully weak. Woojin drew Chan impossibly closer, leaning his cheek onto the top of the blonde’s head.

Jisung laid a hand similarly onto his soulmate’s head, gently carding through the fur. The thoughts in his head grew darker. He  _ knew  _ what the hunters had done. Maybe, not the exact details associated with the clan’s history; but, he could very well guess the extent of the sadistic acts which had been committed. 

“I don’t know what they did in the past. But we all have an idea of what they want to do in the future, Hyung. I’m not an idiot.” The elder’s all flinched at the blunt honesty. Minho’s ears folded back. “Something along the lines of assault? Kidnapping? Torture? Something that would make death look like a prize?” A ripple tore through Minho’s body- fully visible to all. Feeling  _ somewhat  _ apologetic at the thoughts he had carelessly let free-fall from his mind, Jisung forced the edge to fade from his voice. “I’m aware.”

Rather than let the heavy air settle, Jisung perked back up. “But, we won’t let any of that happen! Will we?” His question was directed at the cat- who he knew shared his last sentiment wholeheartedly.

Woojin looked unfocused; torn between the events of the past and the present. A frown scrunched up the features of his face. It wasn’t a good look. Jisung wanted his happy hyungs back. They didn’t deserve to live like this. He’d just found his soulmate. Jisung wasn’t about to let some ignorant, pretentious dicks separate them.

Clearing his throat, Jisung crossed his arms and leaned back. The action meant he broke contact with Minho- who let a short  _ hmpf _ out in displeasure- but it was necessary for Jisung to focus.

“I think the best thing we can do is just... stay together. Not all nine of us- at least in pairs. Jeongin and I go to school together; so do Hyunjin and Seungmin. Felix usually follows Changbin-hyung around, anyway. And you two are attached at the hip.” He added with a flourish of his hand, as the two, indeed, were sitting flush together. “The only issue is Minho-hyung.” The cat hissed. “Sorry. I misspoke. The only issue is who Hyung’ll be with when I’m at school. I can’t exactly…” Jisung trailed off as an idea struck him.

The human’s face quickly morphed into an angelic pout, eyes sparkling and lower lip jutted out. 

Woojin hummed a question mark as he watched the interaction, intrigued at the side of Jisung he’d never seen before. _Poor Minho._ _Whatever he’s thinking about must be pretty bad if he’s willing to go _that _far._

“Hyung~? How do you feel about enclosed spaces?”

Woojin and Chan pulled back to look at each other, equally confused.

But, Minho caught onto the hidden proposal the moment it was vocalized. Thoroughly unsettled, Minho clambered out of Woojin’s jacket and sat directly in front of his soulmate, stretching to be as close as possible without falling off of the table. Jisung went cross-eyed as he stared at his soulmate, but he didn’t back down. Minho wouldn’t hurt him, no matter how annoyed he seemed.

Shackles completely raised, Minho hissed directly into Jisung’s face.

The younger was unphased, though his pout did strengthen a tad more. “But- you’d be safe~!” The teasing lilt did nothing to convince the ruffled feline. “I could wrap you up and feed you between classes. You could sit on my lap and no one would even notice-” Minho hissed again- “and you’d be  _ safe _ .” 

Much to Jisung’s internal amusement, Minho choked on his aggression at the word. The human had let a sad sigh follow, pretending to wilt at the belief Minho didn’t want to be near him. 

The cat’s tail beat back and forth on the table, loud  _ thumps _ that gave away his inner turmoil. Jisung fought a smile. He  _ knew  _ Minho didn’t want to leave him- and wouldn’t- given the threats that they all knew existed at his school. The scene in the bathroom earlier that morning had been evidence enough.

Leaning forward just slightly, Jisung bumped their noses together. A familiar, welcomed warmth blossomed at the contact. “I just want you to be safe, Hyung.” It really wasn’t fair how soft and adoring his voice had become. Jisung could only hope it’d help keep Minho by his side. If he could stop him from wandering the streets for the foul competition, Jisung would gladly show all his cards.

A high whine left the cat when Jisung pulled back, retaking his earlier position.

“You want to take him to school, don’t you?” It sounded utterly ridiculous when Woojin just said his plan like  _ that _ .

Jisung shrugged, nonetheless. “I can’t miss anymore school; especially after what happened on Wednesday. Hyung and I can’t be apart for long, either.  _ And  _ it’s not like he can stay here and work as a cat, so- why not?”

Chan spoke up, a deep set look of disapproval on his face, “if the hunters find out... Jisung…”

“I’m as good as dead? Yeah. I know.” Distracting himself with the way that the fur of Minho’s tail shimmered in the morning light, he sighed and ran a hand down his face. “ _ I know _ , hyungs. But, they won’t.” Jisung nodded to himself and repeated, with more resolve, “they won’t find out… I won’t let them.”

“Okay.” Jisung’s eyes shot up.  _ What? _

Woojin didn’t look exactly happy about it; though, he didn’t look as strongly opposed as Chan did, either.

“Okay.”

Eye twitching and leg bouncing, Jisung narrowed his eyes at the eldest. “What do you mean:  _ ‘okay’ _ ?”

“If Minho is alright with it- he can go.”

“Wooj-”

“Why does he need  _ your _ permission? He might be a cat right now- but he can still think for himself.” The words came out more accusatory than Jisung meant them to.

Minho, startled by the sudden defensive question, growled a low note of warning at his soulmate. There were things that he had yet to explain to the boy- things that were integral to their lives- and he couldn’t very well do that as a fucking cat. Jisung’s ignorance was his fault and no one else’s. What he would do to have two legs and the ability to pull Jisung out of the room before he started any arguments… 

Thankfully, Woojin took the confusion in stride. 

The eldest mirrored Jisung’s reclined position, pulling a tense Chan back alongside him. “There’s always a hierarchy, Jisung. And while Minho is free to do what he wants, I’m currently the one who can grant him the peace of mind that he will be supported and protected by the clan if anything were to happen to him- or you. The responsibility of the clan’s safety is mine right now.”

Used to only seeking out permission from himself- or, his mother whenever she was present- the concept baffled Jisung. Woojin wasn’t much older than the rest of the boys- why was he in charge?

Still, it wasn’t anything he had the energy to argue. Jisung couldn’t deny that, if hunters were to burst through the door at that very moment, Woojin wouldn’t be the first person he turned to. Without putting too much thought into it, Jisung let the topic pass.

So he uttered the same, loose acceptance from earlier: “okay.”

“Okay?”

“I understand… I think.” Not really- but he could ask Minho more specific questions some other time.

The eldest was surprised at the human’s sudden deflation.

Chan, voice still strained, sat up slightly and tapped the end of Minho’s flicking tail, “how do  _ you _ feel about this?” 

The black feline whirled and padded up to the boy. Lightly, Minho leaped down into Chan’s lap and clawed his way up the boy’s torso. Overwhelmed by fondness, Minho nuzzled at the skin under Chan’s jaw. Even when he was struggling with his own headspace, Chan was concerned with others. The cat’s broken chittering almost sounded like words- and probably were, to Minho.

Both elder’s ran their hands down Minho’s coat. 

Born in a place that had always been dormant, petty jealousy sparked within Jisung’s core. Everyone was all warm and cuddly over on the other side and he was  _ alone  _ and  _ cold. Nothing new. _

Chan noticed the negativity first- though Woojin wasn’t far behind. 

Eyes briefly flickering to the human, Chan did his best to soothe Minho’s pitiful complaints without stirring additional emotions. A hand cupped around Minho’s ear, he mockingly whispered, “I think your soulmate’s getting jealous. Doesn’t want anyone to steal you away for even a minute. Lucky, aren’t you, Min-min?” As the cat’s noises grew, so did Jisung’s visible ticks of annoyance. The boy wasn’t even looking at them, anymore- his tongue starkly stuck into the side of his cheek as he glared out the window. “I think you should go back. Protect him well, Minho.” 

A small nip was placed under Chan’s jaw.  _ Of course, Minho would protect Jisung.  _ He didn’t need to be reminded of his duty.

Bounding onto and over the table in a couple of short hops, Minho landed directly onto Jisung’s jittering legs. Nearly straight fell off, too, since they were bouncing so agitatedly.

But, Jisung caught him and hauled Minho’s body easily up into his arms- thoughts of cat fur far from his mind. The strength with which Minho was held was undoubtedly  _ a little bit _ extra, though neither would change it for the world. 

Thoroughly squished, Minho purred at the rekindled connection. Woojin and Chan were comforting- but, nothing could rival the feelings that his true soulmate created.

The younger’s body calmed and inappropriate ideas plagued with malintent faded. Shame nearly replaced the new emptiness, had the elders not subjugated the thoughts:

“You’re alright Jisung- it’s natural to want your soulmate to be with you.”

“You  _ have _ to promise me you’ll do your part in keeping him safe. Yourself, too.”

He didn’t know who to answer first so he just let his responses blend together, “I uh- yeah. Thanks. I will. We’ll stay safe and come back home.”  _ Home…? _

Minho yowled in agreement as he licked at a spot on Jisung’s neck.

Bursting through the door, Jeongin bent over, hands on knees.

“I’M SORRY I’M LATE HYUNG- BUT, LET’S G- _huh?_ Why’s there- _the door?!_ _What?_ happened???_”_

While the eldest pair caught Jeongin up on the situation, Jisung took the chance to rush- limp, more accurately- to the bathroom and change. He swiped his backpack from the conference room and cringed at the amount of fur that was  _ somehow _ clinging to every inch of his clothes.

When Minho made his attempt at darting into the bathroom, Jisung stuck his foot out as a blockade. “Nuh-huh. Not this time.” The door shut.

And the entire time, as the human had expected, Minho clawed at the bottom and whined.

Thankfully, for all of their ears, it only took Jisung a minute to change and look somewhat orderly.

Back in the cafe, Jeongin looked horrified behind his weak mask of confidence. “It’s going to be us, huh, Jisungie-hyung? Don’t worry- I won’t let anything happen. You can count on me.” He flexed, for emphasis. 

From the ground, Minho snorted. 

Heartbreaking at the maknae’s words- Jisung nodded and gave a thumbs up. “Of course you will, Innie. I expect no less.”

Getting Minho situated in his backpack was an adventure on its own. Despite Jisung emptying everything but a single notebook and pencil- it was a tight fit. Minho wasn’t even a large cat- the concept in his head had given Minho plenty of room to turn and lay down; not just enough space to sit upright. Apologetically, Jisung made sure to put one of his extra uniform jackets at the bottom for padding and ran his disgruntled soulmate through his class schedule. He promised that he’d leave the zipper cracked the entire day so Minho would always have fresh air. 

At the promise of being snuck food during home ec, Minho looked  _ slightly _ less pissed off.

“Oh! Speaking of food- here!” Pulling a container out of his backpack and thrusting it into Jisung’s hands, Jeongin beamed. “We cooked breakfast this morning- Seungminnie-hyung and I. I didn’t know if you’d have the time to eat. Or, thought- maybe- you could have it for lunch an-”

Jisung cut off the boy’s rambling with a few pats to his head. “Thank you, Innie. I’ll eat it well.” Just like he always did as a cat, Jeongin pushed his head into Jisung’s hand with a relieved grin. 

From his fabric prison, Minho chripped. Jisung looked down with a condescending nod. “I know. I know. You’ll get a bite too, Hyung.”

Jeongin, ever proud, giggled and pulled away with a high flush on his face.

A cough came from the boy nestled in Woojin’s embrace. “Sorry- but, you three really need to leave; or, you’ll be late.”

“Be safe. If you need anything, you know how to contact us. And, Jeongin, for the love of  _ all  _ that’s good,  _ don’t _ pick any fights with hunters, this week.”

Running out the door with both of their backpacks on his shoulders, the youngest yelled, “no promises!”


	41. [40] A Slippery Dilemma

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh man.. prepare yourself for dramatics because that's what I return with.  
°˖✧◝(⁰▿⁰)◜✧˖°

“Hyuuuung! I said I’m sorry- so can’t you just- _ stay still?! _ ” Never before had Jisung whined so much in a single day. With Minho crying and hissing in response to his floundering, he resorted to sympathetic pouting.

It wasn’t  _ his _ fault that Minho hadn’t let him know anything was wrong throughout the school day. And  _ certainly _ not Jisung’s fault that Minho had obstinately demanded to go with in the first place.

And yet,  _ kind _ and  _ caring _ Jisung was kneeling on the ridiculously hard bathroom floor- long sleeves of one of Minho’s sweaters pushed up, his clothes half-soaked with water- trying to mitigate his soulmate’s suffering.

Jisung was familiar with rowdy animals. He was aware of their delicate senses and easily triggered nerves. 

But, Minho was a case of his own; the black cat had been writhing since they’d left school- yowling and pawing away anything that came near his abused body. 

The water wasn’t even enough to reach his cat-knees, yet Minho panicked as if he were drowning. Like Jisung would knowingly  _ let _ him suffer. He’d even had the foresight to make the water room temperature!

“AGH! STOP IT!” yelled Jisung- his own patience quickly dying away.

The rest of the boys- much to the pair’s miserable embarrassment- were home, as well. 

Mocking yells chorused through various rooms of the house, all of the boys undoubtedly aware of the comedic proceedings of Lee Minho and Han Jisung.

Minho returned a tortured yowl- his body stiffening with utter defeat.

_ Finally. _ After thirty continuous minutes of struggling and strained apologies, Jisung could  _ finally _ help his soulmate.

So many words were sitting at the tip of his tongue:  _ Does it hurt? Are your stitches okay? Am I holding you too tightly? Why didn’t you say anything? We could’ve gone home at any time. Your… everything… is more important than some stupid history lesson. Why didn’t I notice.. _

Underneath Jisung’s careful fingers, Minho’s skin was red. The thick fur masked some of the severity; but, every bump and crack in what was usually a smooth surface drove Jisung further into despair. He knew how much pride the elder took in his appearances, in both forms. To have gone through  _ another _ instance of bodily-damage must’ve been taxing on his mental health.

It was like something in the world wasn’t allowing Minho to be healthy.  _ Or  _ happy.

_ Is it my fault?  _

They were soulmates- did that create some sort of connection between them? Had Jisung’s recent happiness caused an immediate reaction that caused the world to shit on Minho with everything it had?

He’d take  _ all  _ of their combined misery if it meant Minho would be even  _ slightly _ content.

Teeth embedded into the soft flesh between Jisung’s pointer and thumb. He didn’t even flinch- the sensation lost underneath his thoughts.

Patience abandoned- Minho wriggled around in the human’s grip to nip slightly harder at the other hand that was resting along his back.

The second time, Jisung yelped and pulled away, staring at the pink teeth marks in shock. It didn’t really  _ hurt _ \- but Minho had  _ actually _ bit him! When Jisung was only trying to help him get out of a situation that he had caused! Kind of? 

“Okay! Okay! This’ll be done a lot faster if you stop crying and  _ biting _ me. Hmm? Feel like cooperating, hyung?” Jisung came back to reality, unable to help the condescension that saturated his voice. Minho, despite his frazzled attitude, was looking adorable. His fur was stuck up in all directions from the water and squirming; and well, Minho was  _ always _ adorable to Jisung. Hangry and grumpy, or otherwise.

Underneath the warm feeling of endearing adoration was the ever present concern- not only for the condition of Minho’s skin, but also for his stitches which were still a bright red.

A low rumble resounded as Minho stared, unblinkingly, up at his soulmate.

“Hmmm..” Jisung hummed, looking around at the various bottles lining the tub, “which one of these should I use? This one?” He pointed to a plain-looking white bottle, the description offering no more than the brand name and ‘fresh body soap’.

Minho huffed and turned in the tub, batting a bright green bottle off the side. It fell with a loud splash in Jisung’s direction, causing the human to flinch and shake away the unexpected droplets.

“Hey!” 

The cat snickered, the sound somewhere between a chortle and a broken hiss. His tail was flicking back and forth in triumph, adding extra water onto the surroundings.

_ Cocky asshole. What happened to the whiny kid? I think I liked him better. _ Jisung was really beginning to think that Minho only had two modes of operation.

Rolling his eyes, Jisung fished the bottle out and looked at it with a raised eyebrow. It definitely would’ve been the  _ last  _ bottle he would’ve picked. Still, the toxic looking soap  _ did _ state that it was unscented, free of dyes, and for “sensitive skin”.

Squinting in disbelief, the liquid was squirted into Jisung’s palm and massaged around- no need to startle the finicky cat by subjecting him to a frigid liquid.

Regardless of Jisung’s efforts- Minho still jumped when cautious fingers dipped into his fur.

Bottom lip caught between front teeth, the negative thoughts returned as Jisung worked the soap through the fur- trying to wash away the awful chemicals as thoroughly as possible. Minho had only wanted to spend time together and help Jisung get through the day unharmed. Yet, the elder had been the one to end up with a worsened condition.

The suds grew, turning the familiar sleek, black fur into an airy white.

The boy giggled softly to himself. “Hyung, you look like Channie-hyung. All white and fluffy. It’s cute.” Minho stilled, even his breathing seemed to have stalled under Jisung’s meandering hands. Unperturbed, the human continued his rambles: “it doesn’t really fit you, though. Black’s a good color on you. Not that you look bad in other things- that’s not what I meant. Just- I hope this red goes away fast. I really am sorry. You know that, right? Not that it’s exactly my fault- or yours!...... Ju- just get better fast, okay?”

Jisung let out a heavy sigh, his brain falling into a peaceful blankness after the words just tumbled out. Minho didn’t look up at him or even swish his tail, so Jisung finished the bath in silence.

It wasn’t much later Jisung was met with  _ another _ problem.

How was he supposed to dry the cat??

It’s not like he could just let Minho wander around sopping wet- what if he caught a cold?

Blow-drying and towel-drying were also out of the picture. Too abrasive.

And so, Jisung carefully wrapped a very disgruntled- but pliant- Minho in the fluffiest towel he could find in the elder’s bathroom and carefully made his way downstairs where the majority of the clan awaited.

In the living room, the boys were all sprawled out in various positions:

Seungmin and Jeongin were on the ground by the coffee table, leaning over homework problems with a feline-Hyunjin unconscious over their laps. The eldest of the trio was thoroughly content- his purrs loudly filling the room.

Chan and Woojin were walking around, placing steaming bowls of some sort of soup by each person. As each boy became aware of their dinner, thanks and head pats were exchanged.

Noticing Jisung standing in the entryway, his arms occupied by a bundle, Chan smiled warmly before gesturing the boy into the room.

“Come on in, you both need to eat before the food gets cold.”

Grateful, Jisung returned the smile with a small grin and shuffled across the room, taking up a spot between the two eldest on their favorite couch.

Settling Minho in his lap- the cat still glaring at him as water dripped from his fur- Jisung turned to Woojin.

“Where’s Changbinnie-hyung? And Felix?” Inevitably, the pout came through his voice. If anyone was going to know how to help him take care of Minho- it’d be Changbin. Sure, any of the boys would know. But Jisung felt like they’d already made a big enough scene earlier that afternoon. He didn’t want to reinforce his competence as a mate  _ more _ than he already had. They’d laugh at him. Or worse.

“They’rewat Binnie’s studiow- he had shome work he needed ta fwinish up.” Mouth filled, Chan dutifully took it upon himself to answer mid-chew.

“They’ll be back later. Changbin checked in less than an hour ago, Ji. They’re okay.” With a huff, Woojin supplied more reassurance- feeling the need to soothe the younger after knowing his nerves were frazzled from the day’s recent events.

With a frown- Jisung looked down at his lap. He was happy that the pair were safe- but, selfishly, it annoyed him that he wasn’t able to solve his problem.

Swallowing, Chan leaned in close to the boy’s ear, “Sungie, you should eat. It’ll help settle your mind.” As if the reminder was needed, the bowl the blonde had placed at Jisung’s feet earlier was gently nudged closer.

Summoning all the politeness he had, Jisung nodded. “Thank you for the food. I’ll eat when I’m done, hyung.”

Chan’s eyebrows knitted together in confusion. “Done with what? Isn’t Minho cleaned up? He didn’t give you too much of an attitude, did he? Are you both okay?” Immediately, the elder’s concern was prominent- the food in his hands forgotten. 

Bending down to look Minho in the eyes, Chan immediately reeled back in shock.

Minho growled, the vibrations shaking Jisung to the core as he froze in his seat.

The eldest pair stared down at the poor pile in Jisung’s lap, eyes matching and wide with mirth.

“Oh, Min-min, look at you!” Chan cooed, laughing behind his hand as he pushed back the towel to reveal Minho’s wet fur.

Jisung sunk back into the couch, his entire body tightening in mortification.

Without missing a beat, Woojin stuck his hands out- just above Minho’s body. He wasn’t quite touching, but the intention was obvious. “Here, how about you eat and I’ll deal with Minho. Okay, Ji? He’ll be right here with me and we’ll get him some food together when he’s dry.”

Slightly shaking, Jisung stiffly nodded his assent. Anything to get Minho dry and himself rid of the situation. 

His clothes were still wet from Minho’s earlier thrashing and with the absence of his soulmate’s heat, it didn’t take long for the human to fold in on himself. If he could’ve become part of the couch, Jisung would’ve without a second thought.

Setting his empty bowl to the side, Chan turned back and tapped Jisung on the shoulder.

Softly, in a manner completely opposite to his earlier guffaws, the blonde opened his arms up.

It was an action that Jisung was unfamiliar with. His heart jumped and simultaneously froze- the only visible reaction to the offer being his eyes becoming comically large.

Abandoning all second thoughts to the wind, Jisung crawled into the waiting embrace.

Chan was  _ warm _ . Not in the way that a single touch from Minho lit his soul from the inside, out; but a similar sort of comfort that had Jisung instantly relaxing. Tentatively, his head fell against Chan’s shoulder.

Rather than the rejection his body had nonsensically been preparing for, Chan hummed and lightly wrapped an arm around Jisung’s waist. The elder’s free had found its way into Jisung’s hair, delicately carding through as if he were trying to console a small child.

“Awhhh, Sungie.” Cheek nuzzling into soft, damp hair- Chan sighed.  _ What a couple they make. _ From Woojin’s lap, Minho was glaring daggers at Chan’s attentive doting. Not that Jisung noticed. There was no doubt in either of the elders mind’s that if it were possible- Minho would’ve been in Chan’s position.  _ And  _ have refused to let anyone near while he was consoling his stressed soulmate. “He’ll be okay. Min’s been through worse- and he has  _ you _ now. You two’ll be okay.” As if it was reassuring that Minho had experienced worse things than a stabbing and allergic reaction without him.

Mumbling against the elder’s collar bone, Jisung complained softly, “if we weren’t soulmates- this wouldn’t have happened.”

Silence fell upon the room.

Even the youngest duo turned around, shocked expressions matching.

So much for privacy and keeping his thoughts to himself.

No one said anything as Minho forced his way out of Woojin’s hold and stalked out of the room.

It was all his fault.

_ I did it again. _

He couldn’t do anything right.

Jisung flinched at his own thoughts, pulling away from Chan to bury his head into his hands.

Why couldn’t anything go right, lately?

The park seemed like a far-off, happy daydream compared to the reality that seemed to be suffocating him every day.

Rough hands pulled at Jisung, causing his body to fall halfway off the couch- knocking over his lukewarm dinner.

Upright and forced to balance on unsteady feet, the stab of pain in his ankle was overpowered by the numbness that had taken over his entire body. Eyes still closed, Jisung’s entire world spun as he was dragged over and carelessly thrown backwards onto the empty couch.

The impact knocked his breath out of him- eyes opening on instinct to come face to… body?… with a  _ very  _ red Minho. Jisung whined- the sound emanating from his subconsciousness. It felt like  _ so  _ long since he had been with  _ human _ Minho. And to have him present and so… dominating.. without even a drop of elation hurt Jisung. 

_ This isn’t how I wanted it to be. _ Their ‘reunion’ was supposed to be a  _ celebration _ . A time to praise each other and celebrate that they were healthy and together and  _ alive. _

He couldn’t even fully comprehend the elder’s lack of clothes as the blatant anguish on his flushed face bore things far more significant.

Hands on his hips, Minho stood directly in front of his soulmate and bent down until they were on an equal plane. He searched, as if trying to read from the deepest part of Jisung’s existence from the younger’s eyes.

“How  _ dare _ you?”

Jisung whimpered- unable to form suitable words when faced with  _ this _ Minho.

On an attempt to curl sideways against the couch- to escape from the overwhelming aura the boy was exuding- Minho all but slammed his foot down between Jisung’s thighs. Leaning even closer- so that their noses were almost touching- he let out a long sigh of disappointment.

His hair was still wet. Sporadic patches of rashes decorated his skin; painful bumps that made Jisung cringe, but also stare in awe. There truly wasn’t anything that could make Minho look  _ bad _ . The unnatural skin adornments added another level of organic beauty to the boy; as though he were a supernatural creature sent to walk among men.

Wonder replaced fear in the younger as they continued to stare at each other in a silent battle.

How did _ he _ \- a street rat that had just been trying to survive- end up with someone like-

Minho deflated and spun, plopping down in the tight space between Jisung and the arm of the couch.

As if the scene were scripted, Chan stood and laid a thick blanket over the mates, ensuring that everything from waist downwards was covered before he turned and nodded knowingly at the others in the room.

The trio packed up quickly, sharing nods and a low ‘ _ hmprf’ _ between them before they headed home for the evening. The front door opened, then quietly clicked closed with their departure.

The eldest duo were slightly slower- working together to clean up Jisung’s spilled dinner before they, too, left the room.

Jisung watched their actions distantly, all too aware of the body that was beginning to subtly shiver next to him. But, he couldn’t reach out to Minho. They were already pressed against each other far too much. His head was spinning- the conflict between the pleasure of his soulmate being near juxtaposing with his internal self-hatred. 

Internally, Jisung was reeling. How could he possibly explain his inadequacies and yearning for Minho’s safety? Without sounds foolish and being laughed at? He knew how ridiculous his own thoughts were. Maybe if he got away,  _ far away _ \- left Minho alone to finally be free of the burden of being connected to Han Jisung- they could both live happily.

Yet, his body was reacting differently. Unconsciously, the two pressed against each other, the edges of their bodies seeking to connect and reassure. He didn’t need anything except the person next to him to live a fulfilling life. Minho was  _ here _ . Alive and  _ next to him _ . Why would he ever want to be elsewhere? The places they collided were stiff; rigid with strained energy. Cinnamon floated around them, hot enough to burn Jisung’s nose- enough to completely overwhelm his senses- but, he never wanted to be anywhere else.

As if Minho hadn’t been through enough, already.

Jisung just had to go and add mental strain to the list, too.

He berated himself for causing more stress to their lives.

Several minutes of silence passed.

Just being next to his soulmate was wearing down his stubborn defenses.

The longer they sat, the larger the burden became for Jisung. Was Minho expecting him to apologize? To explain? He couldn’t even corral his own thoughts well enough to understand them, so how could he possi-

“I’m sorry.”

The voice was rough and unused. The words, spoken directly at the ceiling, were raw with emotion.

A noise of confusion broke free from Jisung’s throat.

“I’m sorry that I’m your mate. I’m sorry that you even  _ have _ a mate. It’s not my fault- but I can’t do anything about it. So: I’m sorry.”

He’d never heard Minho so downtrodden. So unsure and almost…  _ hopeless? _

Jisung still couldn’t process anything. 

This wasn’t what he had meant- what he’d wanted to express. Minho had  _ nothing  _ to be sorry about. It wasn’t his fault-  _ that  _ much they could agree upon, at least.

Slowly, Jisung turned and resumed a similar position to what he had been in with Chan. Legs over Minho’s thighs and toes shoved down into the cushion, he cuddled up to the stiff and cold body of his soulmate. Head naturally settling into the crook of Minho’s neck, Jisung inhaled slowly.

The cinnamon was stronger there, the reassuring warmth allowing for a bubble of  _ them _ to form. A place where the soulmates could relax and open up to each other.

It took him a few moments to get the words out. “I didn’t mean it. Not like that.”

The tension dripped out of Minho- his body softening to conform around Jisung’s.

Hands settled at the nape of Jisung’s neck and hip, effectively forcing the younger’s body closer.

“Is this okay?” Minho pressed the words into Jisung’s hair, his warm breath sending a spike of energy down Jisung’s spine. They completed each other- misery and happiness combining to balance a single entity, rather than destroy two.

Jisung nodded slightly, driving his head further into Minho’s neck. Taking advantage of the position, he wrapped his arms around the one across his body- securing the hand in its place.

The elder’s heartbeat slowed with time, the constant rhythm against Jisung’s ear nearly lulling him into a peaceful sleep.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Jisung mumbled; reinforcing his drifting, but persistent thoughts.

“Hmm?” As if he could draw the words out, Minho began tracing circles into Jisung’s skin.

“I hate that I bring you pain-” his voice cracked. “Nothing good’s happened since you met me.”  _ Everything seems to revolve around us being soulmates. If you could be free of me- I would do anything. I wish we could’ve just met and been a normal couple. _

The circles stopped, replaced by a hard- grounding- pressure. The sleepiness that had been present quickly faded as the severity of Jisung’s thoughts was made known.

“Jisung.”

Minho pulled back, using his grip to force Jisung back so they could look at each other. 

But the younger refused, squeezing his eyes tightly as the tell-tale (and much dreaded) signs of tears formed.

“ _ Jisung. _ Look at me.” Minho’s voice was steady- not quite demanding- though a desperate edge was obvious.

Cracking a single, watery eye open, Jisung obliged.

How could he deny his soulmate, after all?

Minho hummed again, this time sadly, bringing both his hands up to cup Jisung’s cheeks. 

At the gentle care, the dam broke. Why couldn’t Minho’ve just stayed angry? Shunned him and kicked him away for good? Tears ran down Jisung’s face and Minho’s fingers- but they only stared at each other.

Praying that his nose wouldn’t run and cause him to truly look like the mess he felt like, Jisung sniffled.

A whine- that sounded particularly cat-like- came from Minho as he leaned forward and gently pressed his lips to Jisung’s forehead before pulling back again.

“I could never be apart from you. There was a reason we found each other. You’re mine as much as I am yours, Jisung. Soulmates, or not, you’re the one I want to be with. No one else. Without you, I might as well just let the hunters find me- because there’d be no reason for me to continue living anymore.”

Gently guiding the younger forward, Minho squished Jisung’s cheeks together.

“Do you get what I’m saying?”

Somewhat pathetically, Jisung nodded- the pressure on his cheeks distorting his face in a way that he was sure made him look ugly.

Minho, as with everything he does, was wholeheartedly dramatic and thorough. His words got through to Jisung- but he could still see a reluctant sliver of doubt quivering in the boy’s face. So, he continued:

“I don’t want to be alive if I don’t have a partner named Han Jisung. The one and only,  _ human _ , composer extraordinaire, that can’t tell normal soap from an animal’s. That giggly, chubby cheeked, sunshine that makes every single moment of my day worth living. The only one on this  _ Earth _ that I would spend eight hours stuffed in some bag filled with shitty chemicals for.  _ You _ \- Han Jisung- are the only one in this  _ entire universe _ that I love.”

At that, Jisung cried harder.

Snot and choppy, glee-filled sounds made their way out.

Struggling to verbalize his response, Jisung surged forward and wrapped his arms around Minho, completely clinging to him.

Minho returned the embrace- tugging Jisung as close as physically possible.

“I know. _ I know _ it’s not easy. But- I’m okay. As long as  _ we’re _ okay- I don’t care about anything else. I’d row across the fucking Styx to be with you. No matter what happens to me- I’ll  _ always  _ find you. Even when we’re apart- we’ll always be together. As soulmates. And just Jisung and Minho. So believe in me, yeah? In  _ us. _ ”

Rather than answer, Jisung hiccuped- his entire body jerking.

“I believe.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the end of the third section.  
ONE last one to go to tie all the plot together- despite how I said there were only going to be three a long while ago.
> 
> In case you didn't understand, what happened to Minho will be detailed more later but Jisung's new backpack was unwashed and since it was new it had chemicals in the fabric that irritated Minho's skin. More on that nonsense later.
> 
> I'll be going through and editing the preceding chapters more, so if updates are slower that's going to be why.  
°˖✧◝(⁰▿⁰)◜✧˖°


	42. [41] Water Falls

At some point Minho dragged a reluctant- hey, he was warm!- Jisung to the kitchen for “dinner”. Luckily, they found two perfectly portioned amounts of soup left in the fridge. Even reheated, the food was still the perfect balance of hearty and light.

It took a bit of coaxing to get the younger to a bite and even with Minho’s consistent looks: he only finished about half of the bowl.

There just… was something eating away at Jisung.

Minho could practically see it festering beneath the surface.

After a few minutes of unfortunately strained silence, Minho placed his spoon down overly slow into his bowl and folded his hands on the table.

The longer they sat, the worse the pallor had become. Even from across the table- Minho could see small droplets of sweat forming and a deep blush rising to contrast the sickly paleness. Since they’d moved rooms, Jisung could barely even  _ look _ at him.

But- Minho had no idea how to approach the situation. Having already blown up on his soulmate once that night, he didn’t want to make their fragile connection worse. But, not knowing what was wrong with the boy was eating away at his psyche. Whatever it was- Minho was  _ sure _ that he could fix it; would help the younger in any way that he could possibly ever ask for. 

“Jis-”

“CAN YOU PLEASE JUST PUT SOME CLOTHES ON?!!” Jisung screeched- his entire upper body taking on a brilliant crimson color as he hid behind his hands.

Minho balked. Laughed. Got up. Walked tauntingly slow around the table.

Standing right behind Jisung, who had yet to peak from his cover, Minho bent forward and blew a puff of air into the younger’s ear.

Impossibly loud, the boy shrieked; jumping high enough that he would’ve fell out of his chair had Minho not caught him under the armpits.

Minho chuckled as he deposited the boy back in his seat and let his hands settle on Jisung’s shaking shoulders. Lowering himself again, Minho dramatically blew up his cheeks as if he were going to repeat the action. This time Jisung tried to escape. His attempts were pitifully unsuccessful, the panic of the first action rendering his panicked body useless.

Feeling proud of his effect on the younger: Minho bent even further, right until he was close enough to feel the heat coming off of Jisung’s cheeks, pausing to let the anticipation sink in. The slightest of tremors kept striking through Jisung- his body unable to stay still was the imminent action.

An adorably unexpected whine broke through the air.

Minho pulled away. Glowing from his win in a game he was playing with himself, he walked off- making sure to sway his hips just  _ a little _ more than necessary. Just in case his soulmate was watching.

Which he was.

The shifter took his time changing, taking his second shower of the day, and making sure that  _ everything _ was in place before he returned back downstairs.

A small frown was the only sign of the nervous energy thrumming threatening to over power his body.

Jisung had yet to move from the table, despite Minho having been gone for  _ at least _ half an hour. The only change throughout the room was the change in posture- the younger having slumped directly forwards, his forehead pressed into the surface of the table.

Some part of Minho had hoped that Jisung would’ve found the courage to walk upstairs after the cold loneliness spread through his body. For his soulmate to yearn for his presence and bask in the warmth of their bond. For his soulmate to seek him out and find solace in  _ him _ and  _ only him. _

He saw it every day in the smallest of motions from his clanmates. The most minute gestures of consolation and peacekeeping. Little touches and the softest, reassuring words. Moments that meant nothing to onlookers and everything to those in them.

Before Jisung came along, each pairing did their best to embrace Minho’s existence as if he were an innate part of each of their lives But, as time passed and they grew more mature, it became increasingly obvious who the mates were. No matter how hard they fought against nature to include him- the soulmates were always drawn together. Always kindled beautiful connections with their minds. Always were proud to be together.

Always left Minho…. Feeling like it wasn’t enough to be  _ just _ Minho.

He was Just Lee Minho. Parentless. Mateless. Dependable  _ but  _ wealthy. Appallingly arrogant and flaunting. Not enough and too much all at the same time… Just. Minho.

As much as he wanted to step back and give Jisung the space to adjust to all the differences… Minho wanted nothing more than to cherish him and show the boy what being  _ Lee Minho’s Soulmate _ really entails. And he was going to start with the smallest thing that he could think of.

The thing that seemed like a simple offering of safety.

Hopefully Jisung would accept it. Save him from the embarrassment of opening part of his heart up on a dramatic whim. He had faith, though. Minho could take the first step for both of them- could support Jisung when he didn’t believe in his own worth.

Now clothed in a loose pair of sweats and a t-shirt, Minho knelt down next to Jisung, using the table for balance.

“Hey.” The boy was  _ definitely _ asleep, a short string of drool threatening to detach as Jisung groaned and shoved his face harder into the tabletop.

Reaching up, Minho squished his hand under Jisung’s forehead and gently guided it up, towards the back of the chair.

Jisung followed obediently, the entire weight of his head resting in the palm of Minho’s hand.  _ Somehow, _ he managed to stay unconscious.

The older couldn’t help but attempt to stifle a laugh. The carelessness with which Jisung was behaving was endearing. He couldn’t help but hope that if anyone else were in his place, the younger would’ve woken already.

“ _ Sunshine.” _ Hearing the nickname, Jisung finally cracked an eye open; a hand coming up to paw at his mouth as he slowly came out of his daze.

Eyes still glazed over, Jisung blinked down at Minho with a dopey happiness. As if he were still dreaming and couldn’t believe the sight in front of him.

Minho wasn’t about to lose the opportunity to see into his soulmate’s mind. He wasn’t  _ that  _ considerate.

Tilting his head, Minho hummed, “hmm? What’re you thinking about Sunshine?”

Jisung smiled, care-free elation taking over his face. “I’m glad you’re here.”

Minho’s heart nearly floated away, it felt so light. Unable to filter his own thoughts in return, they spilled out, “you don't know how happy I am to have  _ you _ .”  _ Here, there, anywhere, everywhere.  _ Wherever and Whenever Jisung was willing to be with him.

The boy giggled, rubbing his cheek against the hand that was still resting against his skin.

“I’ve never been so happy. Never had a home.” The words were dripping in honey, the heaviness of them completely bypassing Jisung in his half-conscious state. But, Minho caught them. Held the underlying meanings close and would treasure them to the grave.

“This is your home for as long as you want it to be, Jisung. You’ll always be welcome here.” But Jisung frowned-  _ rejected _ his promises.

With one of the most heart-wrenching pouts Minho had ever seen, Jisung shrunk in on himself, pulling himself up into a tight ball- leaving Minho’s hand to fall down to the back of his neck. The skin was cold and wracked with goosebumps; though, it quickly heated with their combined rising temperatures. “Not this place.”

In pure confusion, Minho felt his own face contort. Maybe, Jisung really  _ was  _ too lost in sleep to be comprehensible.

“ _ You. _ ”

Minho’s entire being locked onto the small boy. With a single eyebrow raised, he kept his voice carefully controlled as he questioned, “me?”

“It’s  _ you. _ ”

Sensing that Minho still didn’t quite understand- the silence of the pause too fragile to break with the wrong words- Jisung whined and buried his head further between his knees, shaking away the distracting touch of his first and only partner.

“You. My home is with you.”

Completely stunned, Minho fell backwards. Didn’t even feel the impact as his brain short circuited.

It wasn’t until he felt Jisung between his legs, nudging them wider so that he could crawl closer, that Minho realized he wasn’t even breathing.

Doing his best to exhale smoothly- trying to avoid giving away his inner turmoil- the elder choked on his own saliva. Lurching forward and nearly bashing his head against Jisung’s, Minho coughed and  _ coughed-  _ his lungs battling the lack of oxygen and intrusive liquid.

A light hand ran up and down his leg, slowly, the pattern reassuring and consistent.

Breathing in time with Jisung’s motions, it didn’t take long until Minho was able to recover from his fit.

“Okay?” The question was small, guilt-filled, and rough- as though Jisung was sharing his sore throat.

Minho nodded, unable to formulate the words to convey his emotions properly. Instead, he reached forward and pulled Jisung in.

The action was rather brash, inspired more by a deep, carnal need than anything else.

Jisung came willingly, like water falling from the sky, contorting to meld perfectly against his body, tucked into his embrace with an ageless ease.

The need for words was lost. Long passed even after Minho’s limbs became numb and painful pricks rose and faded.

Surprisingly, it was Jisung who broke the hypnotic peace that they’d fallen under, “can we go to bed?” His tone was no stronger than earlier, the words still quiet, spoken against Minho’s collar where his face was tucked.

The proposition was surprising- Jisung had been sleeping stubbornly on the couch the entire time that he’d been shifted. Even rejected Chan’s offer of sharing his bed, if Jisung was feeling uncomfortable sleeping alone.

Minho hadn’t failed to notice his soulmate’s reluctance when it came to entering his room. The way Jisung’s face always turned pale and his words grew fewer. It perplexed the older, but pushed him to believe the timing of his ‘gift’ was right.

Jisung deserved it.

And Minho  _ owed _ it to his soulmate to make him as comfortable as possible. After all the shit he’d gone through? It was only right.

“Actually- would you mind if I showed you something? I’ve been waiting for a while.”  _ Fuck. _ Why did he say that? Now it was going to sound like he was pressuring Jisung into something he might not want. Hastily, Minho tacked on, “if you want. If not, it can wai-”

“Sure.” Jisung stood slowly, as to not aggravate his ankle, before holding a hand out in Minho’s direction. His mannerisms suddenly that of a child, the impatience radiating from the expectant posture.

Surprised at the boy’s sudden change, Minho huffed and arched an eyebrow. Somehow, it seemed like it’d become Jisung who was the one calling the shots. Not that Minho would mind.

Not wanting to reject his soulmate who had graciously accepted the offer without a second thought, he smiled and accepted the hand; cautiously taking care not to pull too hard- there was an undeniable weight ( _ and height)  _ difference, no matter how much confidence flowed from Jisung _ .  _

Smiling when their hands stayed connected, Minho led Jisung upstairs.

When they bypassed Minho’s bedroom a noise of confusion came from the younger; though, he followed obediently they walked further down the hall.

A squeak, combined with Jisung grip becoming painfully tight, told the older all he needed to know. Jisung knew what he was about to see.

“Minho, I can’t-”

“You  _ can _ .”

Turning, Minho took the boy’s other hand as an expression  _ far _ too soft to ever grace his features took hold.

“Let me give this to you. It’s yours to take- to use- to do  _ whatever  _ you want with. If you hate it, you can just burn it down and redecorate however you want.”

At the mere notion of even destroying something that was given to him- Jisung shook his head adamantly. He couldn’t even fathom doing something so horrible and Minho knew it. That didn’t mean he didn’t deserve the option to do so. Minho didn’t want his soulmate to be trapped in the customs of their lives. Customs that he had barely even been introduced to.

Jisung searched Minho’s face- seeming to discover some sort of joke or insincerity. Minho stayed still, eyes wide and teasingly unblinking, letting the younger read whatever he could find. After all, Minho had nothing to hide.

Embarrassment overtook the elder’s features as Jisung’s eyes flicked downwards- to the door handle.

“Go on,” he urged, dropping one of Jisung’s hands. Better to get it over with. Just like a band-aid, right?

He was nervous; sweat gathering across his body, entire being vibrating with anticipation. The worst that could happen would be for Jisung to throw up and run out, right? Hit him and wail about how terrible of a person Minho was? He couldn’t exactly get away with Minho holding his hand; and, even if he got sick- Minho could nurse him back to health like some cute sitcom trope, yeah? It’d be  _ fine. _ Totally-  _ fine.  _ Yeah. Uh-huh.

T o t a l l y f i n e.

The door creaked open at an excruciatingly slow pace- Jisung ever the wary being.

Minho held his breath; watching with peaking anxiety as Jisung took the smallest of steps into the room, his eyes taking in every surface and ornament from the floor to the ceiling.

Minho had overdone it.

He  _ knew  _ it. But, he couldn’t take it back now.

Young, hopeful, and eager; he hadn’t even known Jisung when he began decorating. Hadn’t let any of the boys- or, even Woojin’s dad- see the room, either. It was  _ his _ sacred project and  _ Jisung’s _ \- or, at least what he hoped to be Jisung’s- precious space. If Jisung wanted to allow someone in, it was  _ his _ choice.

Minho wanted nothing less than for Jisung to fall in love with the space and never come out. If he had to come in and fish his soulmate out- that would be the best case scenario.

It’d taken several months to complete between school and work, countless trips to hardware and art stores,  _ and  _ a questionable amount of demolition. The whole process had been draining- but, it was also the most fulfilling thing he’d done since opening the cafe.

The room was almost in the opposite state of his own-

Walls covered with wood, complete with rafters on the ceiling; a huge window that perfectly captured the tree in the backyard- large enough that, at night, Jisung would be able to see the stars from anywhere in his room.

The entire concept was rustic and warm; a room that screamed ‘wood cabin vacation’ with dark shades of green and brown consuming every available space. The smallest accents of light blue brought the area to life, aided by a small trickling fountain in the corner which blocked out any extraneous noises from outside.

The bathroom was created with a complementing scheme of dim lighting, a single mirror, and a beautiful stone bathtub settled in the corner. It was an odd find; yet, what was essentially a large rock bowl managed to bring the room together.

It wasn’t extragently large; the paneling and sound-proofing had taken up a few spare inches on the perimeter. But, Minho was proud of his efforts and color-coordinations.

When Jisung pulled his hand away, Minho felt his heart freeze. The motion was sharp, as if the connection-which had been Minho’s only source of reassurance- had shocked the younger.

From his position slightly behind, Minho couldn’t see Jisung. Couldn’t read his expression. Couldn’t tell if he should run or- “I’m sorry.” Was he really, though? Minho didn’t even know what he was apologizing for. Just  _ knew  _ that he had to do  _ something. _

Jisung didn’t speak, his head dropping.

Beating the younger to the punch before he could say it himself- trying to spare himself from any unnecessary pain,  _ maybe he should’ve waited. Should’ve have just said ‘fuck the tradition, he can decorate his own room.’- _ “you can sleep in my room- or the couch. You hate my room, too, don’t you?  _ I mean- _ I-” the words jumbled, caught in his throat as Minho struggled to articulate just how apologetic he was. It wasn’t like Minho to lose his composure. Wasn’t like him to care enough to stumble over his own thoughts.

Jisung walked away.

But, to Minho’s confusion, he shuffled- feet dragging like a drunken prisoner’s- into the middle of the room, around to the other side of bed, where he slowly sat. Back facing the doorway, Jisung took a few visible breaths before a low and nearly inaudible, “come here”, made its way out.

And his soulmate obeyed like it was the last order he’d ever fulfill. As though his life hinged on his ability to obey, he dropped to his knees on the- thankfully, plush- dark green rug and let his head hang in shame. If Jisung didn’t want to look at him, he wouldn’t force the contact, already too overwhelmed by what he’d done.

The emotions were eating at him, consuming his every thought while simultaneously blocking out anything potentially coherent. Maybe, he was the one that wanted to run away, after all. Wouldn’t be able to face his soulmate after this. Didn’t know if he could explain to his clanmates after destroying the project he’d poured his every waking thought into- back when he hadn’t even known if his soulmate existed.

The gesture of exchange meant so much to them. Their species. Their culture. It was his offering to Jisung. A place in his house and heart that he yearned for the younger to accept and cherish. Perhaps, he should’ve just done it the normal,  _ human  _ way. Proposed his undying love with some random, hollow ring of metal and a few rocks. Offered flowers and sweets and showered Jisung in fleeting words that would fill his heart for hours to come, only to fade away until they needed to be refilled.

“Minho.” No ‘- _ hyung’.  _ No honorifics. Just  _ his _ Minho.

He still couldn’t look up. The tone of Jisung’s voice was far too controlled to be comforting and despite the heated flooring, Minho felt like he’d been doused with a bucket of ice. His nerves were shaking and his body falling apart at the seams. Struggling against the weights that seemed intent on pulling him under, Minho didn’t look up.

Any careless word from Jisung could break him. Hell, a breath could shatter his entire world.

Warm hands found his cheeks, not pushing or pulling, just settled against his heated skin.

“Minho. I said: ‘come  _ here _ ’.” the words made him flinch. He was ‘ _ here’ _ . He’d been present the entire time. What more could Jisung want? What more could he possibly give him? He’d give Jisung  _ anything _ . The realization didn’t even bother Minho. However, not understanding Jisung  _ did _ bother him. Deeply. “Come  _ here _ . Not  _ There. _ What are you doing down there, Minho? I want you  _ here _ . With me.  _ Please _ .”

He acquiesced. Scrambled up almost pitifully fast and let Jisung’s hands guide him back down. Minho fell rather ungracefully in his haste, his body collapsing directly into the younger.

Afraid he’d made the wrong move  _ again _ , Minho pushed himself up and muttered a few apologies as he attempted to move away from Jisung.

But, the younger wasn’t having it.

The moment Minho began isolating himself again, Jisung latched on like a koala, arms and legs coming up to lock around the body that was trying to escape.

Not expecting the extra weight, Minho made a sound of surprise and fell back, his entire weight landing on Jisung  _ again.  _ Chin landing just clear of the younger’s shoulder, the poor boy was  _ definitely _ flattened underneath his excessive weight.

_ Nothing  _ was going right.

The entire day was a mistake.

Jisung was right. They were better apart. They were only meant to destroy each other- not compliment.

“ _ Minho. _ Stop thinking. Just- stop. Whatever you’re thinking- it’s not true. It’s not, okay?” Jisung squeezed tighter, like an anaconda trying to rid Minho’s body from all the thoughts that didn’t belong.

He couldn’t stop, though. Minho was far too deep in the hole to pull himself out so easily. Breathing unsteady and heart rate erratic, he couldn’t untense his body. Mind too busy to realize his physical state, he couldn’t control  _ anything _ .

Mouth right at the shell of Minho’s ear, Jisung took in a deep breath before releasing it- their bodies sinking closer to the mattress.

Jisung’s arms fell away from Minho’s body. The pressure that had been the only thing to keep him  _ together _ disappeared, only to be replaced with soft touches and soothing words of reassurance. “It’s okay. You’re okay. We’re okay.”

After a while, Minho managed to calm his breathing. His body didn’t seem to follow, stubborn stiffness prominent in his bones. He couldn’t manage to expel  _ all _ of the negativity. There were too many thoughts and too many feelings that crumbled during the moment he’d been both anticipating and dreading for years. The moment that was happening  _ right now _ .

“Minho, look at me, would you?” It was a request, not a demand, one that wasn’t expected to be acted upon immediately.

Minho had given up trying to quell the storm within himself, deciding to leave himself bare and honest. If Jisung was going to reject him- he was going to reject  _ all _ of him.

To be able to do as he was asked, the elder had to pull away from where he’d been squashed into Jisung’s clavicle, the position putting too much pressure on his still-healing stitches, anyway. With matching, bloodshot eyes and running noses: they looked at each other at last.

A sharp, pained gasp ran through him as he registered the state of the younger’s face and he was sure that Jisung had heard it- probably even  _ felt _ it as the responding electric pain shot through his body.

_ Of course _ , Jisung could be in pain without showing it. Like he was numb to his emotions and could act without regard to his own psychological state. Minho had done that to him. The strained stitches were practically irrelevant; the torture of seeing his soulmate in such a state-  _ that he’d directly caused- _ was thousands of times worse. 

They weren’t okay. 

Nothing was okay.

“Hyung!” With attentive care, Minho was turned to lie on his back. Jisung hovered, hands fluttering around like he was unsure if he could touch the body beneath him without causing further injury.

A few ragged breaths settled the majority of pain, allowing Minho to crack open his eyes, more watery than before, and blink dramatically until Jisung came into focus.

Jisung was crying again.

He wasn’t okay.

They weren’t okay. 

Biting hard on lip as it wobbled, the younger looked like an absolute wreck. Like someone had kicked his favorite puppy and burned his childhood blanket.

Forgetting his inhibitions, all thoughts washed away with the pain, Minho reached up and gently pried the other’s injured lip free. “I’m okay.”

“ _ We’re  _ okay.” Jisung corrected, his voice pathetically affected by feelings that weren’t even experienced directly by him.

Jisung didn’t let the hand fall away; instead, grabbing it to idly play with as he gathered his thoughts. Tucking his legs underneath his body, Jisung settled at Minho’s side, completely lost in his own meanderings. 

It took so long for Jisung to reach a conclusion that Minho began drifting himself; the sensation of his fingers being rolled between two hands- which his body recognized as his soulmate’s- was enough to warm, and slowly calm, his chaotic emotional state.

When Jisung spoke, Minho jumped, his body instinctively tensing at the unexpected sounds. The boy’s voice was horse and low, the tears obviously having affected the younger’s vocal chords: “you’re the only one I want. We found each other- like we were supposed to- and now… You’re  _ mine, _ Lee Minho.  _ Mine. _ ” 

The way Minho’s jaw dropped was cause for later mockery. He was stunned-  _ speechless-  _ by the bold words that he’d waited his entire life to hear.

Jisung bent over, their noses mere inches apart, “do you understand what I’m saying?”

Nodding, Minho held onto a dumbfounded expression, pushing Jisung to drive his point home harder: “Sorry, what did you say?” 

The younger huffed, the look in his eyes far too full of adoration for the mocking tone he took on. “‘I don’t want to be alive if I don’t have you’? ‘You’re the only one on this Earth that I want to be with’? Lee Minho. I love  _ you _ and  _ no one _ else.”

Minho broke.

Unbidden sobs and near-wails flowed from his body as all of the pain he’d accumulated over the years flowed out and was soaked up by his love-  _ his soulmate _ who laid at his side and became his own personal blanket.

They fell asleep, exhausted and overflowing with emotions they’d only read about in fairy tales. Minho wrapped up in Jisung’s arms, together underneath a comforter that suspiciously smelled  _ exactly _ like Minho- rather than the store bought chemicals Jisung had been subtly dreading.

Later, when Minho was high on endorphins and doped up on sleep, the elder would admit to sneaking into the room to daydream about the person who would someday bring meaning to his life.


	43. [42] To Drown in Euphoria or Cookies?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This would probably have taken me less time to write if I could stop hitting CTRL+R instead of +T...  
In reality, I busted the shit out of my index finger and people IRL kinda suck.  
°˖✧◝(⁰▿⁰)◜✧˖°

_ It’s cold. _

His bed was cold.

It struck Jisung so oddly to have that thought. _ Him? A bed?? _

The warmth that had been surrounding him faded with every passing second, leaving Jisung empty. In an unfamiliar place. In a bed that was his in title- but not in heart.

His heart was missing.

Or, was it?

Muffled rumbles in the distance drew his attention- two tones lowly arguing. One clipped and harsh, the other soft and careful.

“I refuse to let it close. Not because of _ them. _ They won’t get the satisfaction. We’ll fix it. Today. That’s _ final _.”

“Why are you so caught up in this? This isn’t about just your safety anymore. There’s no way I’m letting you get our family hurt more than they already are. Seungmin can’t even-”

“Don’t. That’s nothing new. Don’t even try that with me.”

A pause that was heavier than all of their words weighed down on the parties. 

A heavy sigh. A disheartened exhale that was far too displaced against the serenity the early morning light provided. “Hyung. I _ can’t _ let them- they can’t-... We’ve lasted this long.” The voice broke- desperation bleeding through as the pitch rose. “ _ I’ve _endured it. Let me have this one thing- Let me have hi-”

“_Minho. _”

“_Please. _ Hyung. It’s... Please.”

The words clawed at Jisung’s heart. Woojin was commendably strong for his unwavering strength in the face of Lee Minho’s pleading. Jisung would’ve broke way before that point; the way his hands were shaking in response to his soulmate’s misery spoke louder than any of his words could ever.

_ What did he mean-? ‘They’ve lasted that long’?.... _ Sure, the hunters had been nipping at their toes over the Unbonded terror Minho had become in their eyes. If they were smart, they’d know that the protective nature of the clan as a whole would greatly trump anything that Minho could ever dream of accomplishing on his own.

Without notice, the door to Jisung’s room cracked open and the new owner panicked.

On instinct, he pulled the thick comforter over his head; dually ashamed and jealous. There was no way the elder wouldn’t immediately know that he’d been eavesdropping. And, obviously, they’d been talking about the cafe. Jisung wasn’t an idiot. He knew how important the building was to Minho.

But- why was an ugly feeling growing in the pit of Jisung’s stomach. ** _I hate this. _ ** Why did he want to gag and throw up until he couldn’t speak anymore- just so that he wouldn’t have to face the inevitable concern he’d be faced with when Minho realized his awful reaction. ** _He’ll hate it- hate me._ **

** _I don’t have a right to feel like this._ **

Really- there was nothing to be jealous of. ** _Really- a simple ‘hello’ could make me jealous, at this point. It’s pathetic. _ ** The boys had known each other way longer than either had known Jisung. They had memories and connections; and, overall, a stronger relationship. ** _I want people to be able to say that about us. I want us to be strong. Together._ **

Why didn’t Minho bring up the concern with Jisung, beforehand? **_Of course he wouldn’t. _**Was he not worthy of hearing his soulmate’s thoughts? **_He barely knows me._** Was he a mere doll to be showered in gifts and ignored when shit went Sou-

“Ji? I know you’re awake.” ** _I wish I’d stayed asleep. _ **A weight settled at the edge of the bed, on the side Jisung was facing.

** _Don’t look at me._ **

A few moments passed, Jisung’s breathing picking up as the tension grew and the dark thoughts took hold. His soulmate was _ right there _. So, why was it so cold? Why were his fingers tingling like he’d stuck them against ice? Why did the weight next to him feel as if it were directly over him- crushing his lungs until every breath was torturous.

**_I don’t want you to look at me._** Worse, Jisung didn’t want his soulmate to leave, either. Was it selfish? Probably more accurate to say masochistic, honestly.

Hesitantly, Minho’s hand landed on what he thought- and desperately hoped- to be Jisung’s shoulder. His aim was- _ thankfully- _accurate.

The next time the elder spoke, he was directly next to the boy’s ear. “Sunshine. Why are you hiding, hm?” 

Jisung cringed. Choked on a whimper that couldn’t find its way out of his strained throat. Cowered far into the depths of the blankets, where maybe- if he was lucky- he’d be swallowed up for good. Taken away from all the stress that had accumulated far too early for the morning. He wasn’t nearly awake enough to properly process such heavy turmoil.

When he didn’t get an answer, Minho pulled away. Stood up and left his boy alone and cold on the mattress where he was drowning on his own, unfounded sorrow.

Not for long, though.

Mere seconds later, Jisung found himself weighed down by an exponentially heavier body, the air completely rushing out of his lungs as Minho landed on him with a triumphant cackle.

Stunned at the sudden change in behavior, Jisung threw the blanket away from his face and yelled, “Yah!!”

“Yah? YAH?! Is that how you talk to your hyung?! Your precious _ soulmate?! _ YAH!?!” Somehow, Minho managed to have become obnoxiously energetic in the, again, much too-early morning. The birds were suddenly chirping around outside, as if responding to the yells. Jisung, on the other hand, grabbed the nearest pillow and smashed it over his head- effectively blocking Minho’s view of his early morning puffiness _ and _ not giving the elder a chance at reading the emotions that were struggling to settle down within him.

If the rest of the house hadn’t already been awake, they were now.

As if he’d somehow figured out how to become _even more_ endearingly annoying, Minho began bouncing around, his body less than gracefully flailing around the bed.

Yanking the pillow away and tossing it across the room, Jisung was in shock as Minho continued his rant while shaking the younger’s shoulder’s haphazardly: “YAH! How about I call you that from now on?? YAH, GET MY SHOES. YAH, YOU. MAKE ME A COFFEE. YAHHH- I’M HOOOME!!”

Jisung nearly vomited as his head lopped back and forth, deeply regretting his choice of throwing the blanket away. It had been a big mistake. His last form of protection against Minho’s awful morning breath and he’d willfully- and foolishly- abandoned it. Way to go, Han Jisung.

When Minho didn’t get the response he wanted, he continued to torment his captive. 

Rolling Jisung onto his back, the elder shimmied his way down Jisung’s torso.

Suddenly frozen, Jisung panted and stared at his soulmate- following his actions with wide eyes filled with anticipation and horror. 

A dark look overtook Minho’s face as he gazed back at the boy. A foreign expression passed through his eyes. He could do anything and Jisung wouldn’t respond. Wouldn’t have the conscious ability to reject his advances.

Jisung was shaking.

Minho closed in- his body easily overshadowing and encompassing his soulmate’s. Even if he was filling in slowly, overall, Jisung was no different from the same bony and thin thing he’d been a couple weeks ago.

Relaxing with a heavy sigh, Minho shamelessly dropping the entirety of his weight directly onto Jisung. Their heads slotted perfectly against the other’s. Heavy breathing tickling down their bodies in shocking synchronicity.

Jisung was shaking.

“You don’t need to be scared.” The murmur was more felt than heard, the low vibrations rattling Jisung to the core.

“‘m not scared.” A lie. Why was Jisung lying?

“You sure?”

The shaky breath that followed was enough of an answer. “No.” Spoken against the elder’s collar, Jisung dug himself inwards. Hands desperately grasping at the nearest bits of fabric, the boy pulled their bodies impossibly closer. A high pitched whine, belonging more to a miserable, abandoned animal than a human, finally forced its way free.

In an unconscious response, Minho’s limbs tightened around Jisung’s body, creating a cage to shield the boy from whatever was causing him pain. Completely unaware that the source was he, himself.

“You don’t have to be. Not of me. Never of me.”

“‘s not you.”

Jisung’s would’ve been hyperventilating if his lungs weren’t crushed by a thick boulder of a man. Still, his heart rate picked up and he found himself dizzy. Spinning between the softness of the mattress and the reassuring solidity of his soulmate’s presence.

“It’s just...”

Humming an encouraging note, Minho was all ears. With his cheek pressed hard against the pulse point of Jisung’s neck, he was careful with his reactions- taking careful note of the smallest of changes in the younger.

A need rose within Jisung. Fueled by pure will, he wriggled until his arms were completely free. Blatantly ignoring Minho’s chirp of confusion, Jisung shamelessly latched on like a koala; his arms wrapped tightly around Minho’s head- cradling the head in a lock that the elder wouldn’t be able to pull back from. 

Now, he _ definitely _ wouldn’t bear to witness the inner struggle that his soulmate was experiencing.

“Can we… I don’t-...” Jisung huffed in annoyance created by his own insecurity. None of the words or requests forming in his head felt... _ right _. He knew what he wanted. But, not how to get it. Not without risking a change in their relationship. A change that he wouldn’t have control over.

The elder tried to rise up, placed his forearms carefully in a frame around Jisung’s head. Thanks to the boy’s iron grip and resilient, clingy nature- Minho failed in his efforts to pull away.

Sinking back down with a dramatic groan, Minho compromised by not-so-sneakily wrapping his arms underneath Jisung’s neck- mirroring proximity of the boy’s anaconda hold. As if he had forgotten he was currently in his human form, Minho nuzzled into his soulmate’s body, wrapping his scent around the boy with a contented hum.

“Wha- _ huh? _” Heat flowed through Jisung’s body, his upper body taking on a deep flushed tone.

The change warmed the skin against Minho’s face, dragging a dopey smile to the surface. One that had never been seen before. “What do you want, Jisung?”

A squeak, not dissimilar to Seungmin’s favorite toy, resounded.

Neither of them needed the visual to know that Jisung was bright red. His body flushed and his brain filled with static that only he could hear.

“I- I don.... I can’t say it.” The truth. Forced out of his body, at last.

Though the voice that responded to his insecurity was sincere, deep and warm with affection- it didn’t quell any of the rapidly-rising anxiety. “We’ve got all day. Take your ti-”

A sudden thud struck the door, followed shortly by a high-pitched yowl. Awful scratches only lasted for a few moments before they ceased and Woojin’s exasperation flowed through the door:

“What this thundercloud meant to say was: ‘Jisung! You better not be getting up to anything in there! Tell Minho to control himself so you can get ready! Innie will be here in less than half an hour!’” Stomps faded without waiting for a reply, Woojin’s chastising complaints floating down the hall as he retreated.

Minho, much to his credit, had remained relaxed, his scenting incessant.

Raking a hand lightly through dark brown hair, Jisung smiled to himself. The relief form being able to avoid his thoughts from before was palpable.

With a heavy sigh, Minho stilled. He allowed himself a few more seconds of what had essentially turned into a petting session before slowly, rolling off of Jisung. 

Or, at least, he made a valiant attempt at doing so. 

Oddly resistant and unwilling to separate, Jisung followed. They landed awkwardly- joints bent at uncomfortable angles and limbs pressed on too heavily. With soft, amused huffs, they quickly sorted themselves out. It didn’t take long before their legs slotted comfortably and Jisung was sprawled on top of his soulmate.

The earlier nuzzles were returned two-fold, Jisung making sure to exaggerate the action as much as their mutual head-locks allowed. The simple motion of dragging his nose up and down the softness along Minho’s throat brought a ridiculous amount of satisfaction to the boy; as if he could understand why his soulmate took great joy in the constant, increased contact between their bodies. He could get used to it.

The end result wouldn’t be obvious to his human senses; but, the rest of the house would be able to tell- except Changbin. Jisung was fully doused in cinnamon. Not even a shower would wash away the shifter’s claim. Minho grinned to himself.

Refusing to abandon the weight at the back of his mind, Jisung whispered against Minho’s jaw, almost hoping that the syllables would get lost before they reached his soulmate’s ears. “I’ll tell you… later. Not... now. But- I will. I promise.” And, Han Jisung didn’t make promises lightly. He didn’t have much to offer. No fancy decorations or extravagant gifts. Not even himself. The only possession Jisung had was his word. 

Finally allowed to pull away, Minho let the grin morph into something impossibly soft as he found stubborn uncertainty flickering through the younger’s face.

“I believe you. Thank you, Sunshine. For trusting me enough to tell me.”

Jisung nodded as his eyes jumped around the room, his former, pre-planned monologue completely scrambled due to Lee Minho’s incessant honesty. “I- I uh, guess I should get ready. D- don’t want to keep Innie wa- waiting, right?” His voice broke on the last syllable, shame following directly behind. Jisung’s eyes locked on the ceiling- strictly avoiding the other, who he just _ knew _was barely suppressing amusement.

“I’m going to walk you to school.”

The random declaration caught Jisung off guard. But- he supposed it was the best they could manage. Not like he could shove a full, human-sized Minho into his backpack . Or, even fake him as a prospective student for the day. Even worse, if Minho were to turn back into a cat, and Jisung carried him- in a bag that he _ wasn’t _ allergic to- it wouldn’t be long until someone caught them. And, with the high number of hunters they suspected were in the school-.... There just wasn’t a viable solution to keep them together throughout the school day.

For the first time since their bond was revealed: they’d be apart for an extended period of time.

“Awh, Ji~” Minho cooed as his hands came up to frame Jisung’s cheeks. “It’ll be okay. If it gets too bad, just call me. Or text. You have Felix’s phone. One word and I’ll come get you. No matter what, okay?” His expression was light, but the stern nature of his words was surprisingly reassuring. Even if they were separated- Minho would only be one message away. “Okay? Repeat it back to me.”

“I-” A tremor tore through the younger. Minho didn’t blink, though he inarguably felt the repercussions of Jisung’s efforts. “I’ll call you. If I want to leave.”

“For _ anything _.” The elder specified, squishing the boy’s cheeks for emphasis.

“F’r anwy’hing.”

With a single, satisfied pat, Minho let his hands drop. “Guess you should be getting up, huh? Can’t let the baby be alone for too long. He’ll start crying.”

Jisung looked unimpressed at the condescension, but sat up anyway.

Straddling one of Minho’s thighs, he looked around in confusion. Or, perhaps, confliction.

Having a room of his own was weird. No other way to describe it. There was something greatly unsettling about having an area given to him, while not understanding a thing about the space. Even in the hut… tent… shelter… thing? he always knew exactly where everything was located. But- the only thing familiar in this room was the man underneath him.

“Oh-! That dresser- over there- go look in it.”

Confused and somewhat apprehensive, Jisung stood and walked over to the wooden set of drawers. Opening the top one cautiously, he found that the contents were packed so tightly that they nearly overflowed the moment the drawer was pulled out. An odd collection of bright colors and soft fabrics filled the space.

Breathless, Jisung turned to Minho with both eyebrows raised.

“Channie-hyungie picked them out. Though~ a certain maknae helped him with the sizing. I think you’ll like them. Hyung has good taste.” On an afterthought, he added: “usually.”

A couple of drawers down, three sets of neatly folded uniforms mockingly stared up at him. Overly aware of their perfect, clean creases and pleats: Jisung pulled a set out and carried it to the bathroom. With two hands. Away from his body. Accompanied by a deeply concerned expression. His motions were mechanical, but at least he was managing to function in some capacity.

When Jisung, fully dressed, made it to the kitchen: Chan was screeching and running around. _ Again. _ The white cloud was surprisingly agile- despite his old age- as he shot underneath chairs and between legs. A light blur leaving only fluffy, fur balls in his wake.

Breakfast was cut short- thanks to Jisung and his unnamed distraction that morning. A piece of toast hanging out of his mouth and a fully-stocked lunchbox shoved into his restored backpack, Jisung found himself walking to school between Minho and Jeongin.

Not by choice, but by necessity.

Over his head, the other two bickered _ the. entire. way. _

Although he tried walking faster, to save his poor, abused ears from catty comments, Jisung’s ankle protested and he quickly found himself returning to a snail's pace.

Thankfully, the doctor’s note he’d given administration the day before had gotten the majority of the nosy adults out of his business. Jisung really owed Woojin’s dad for that… not like he wasn’t a legitimate practitioner or had forged the note- it just felt weird to have one of his friends' parents _ actually _ look out for his well-being. Not like he ever had friends, before. Or, reliable adult figures in his life.

“No more crutches, then!” The school nurse had declared; though, Jisung was still allowed to leave classes early to avoid any possible unfortunate tramplings in the halls. His foot was practically bubble wrapped, hidden underneath several layers; a ruse to keep it from moving or being injured further. Still! _ No crutches. _

The only downside was the special attention it brought to him in every class. Some of his teachers just let him slip out once it was time. Others made him interrupt the lesson just to ask for permission. Those were the worst. Especially when heads spun to look at him and he had the sick pleasure of watching a few of his classmates smile at his discomfort- their eyes seemingly twinkling at his predicament. 

It was always the same people, too. The ones he’d never gone out of his way to avoid before; but now, avoided the lot of them like a plague. Undoubtedly, he took some comfort in knowing that he had a place to go back to if shit really got serious. No longer would he have to limp back to the shack and lick his wounds in frozen silence.

_ It’s the small things, _ he thought, cracking a small smile.

A street away from the school’s entrance, Minho halted. With a hand lightly gripping just above Jisung’s elbow, the elder looked down with a knowing expression. Mixed emotions flowed between the soulmates- the time for their parting had come faster than either of them had expected.

Not missing a beat, Jeongin waved with a happy, unrestrained giggle. “I’ll see you at lunch, Jisungie-hyung!”

Jisung lifted his free hand in a half-hearted wave, mumbling a confirmation in the youngest’s direction.

“HEY! What about my goodbye?! After I raised you off of my back!! Look at these wrinkles! All for nothing!!” Minho yelled, exasperatedly jutting his hip out.

“I’m sure Jisungie-hyungie will say ‘good-bye’ enough for the both of us, won’t he?” Ugly cackling, the brat turned and skipped away.

“I’m never giving him free coffee, again.” Minho grumbled, a poorly hidden blush shining in the clear, morning rays.

“Can I have his cup, then?”

Turning with a deadened, mocking expression, Minho directed his sass at the blonde: “You don’t even drink coffee.”

“Who says it’s for me?” The boy batted his lashes, leaning in with the least coercive wink Minho had ever seen.

Undoubtedly, Jisung’s blatant attempt at innocent flirtation was endearing. The elder played into it, internally twirling from the boy’s energetic mood.

Grabbing both of the backpack straps, Minho yanked Jisung into his body with a quick pull, their chests colliding hard enough to leave both of them breathless. The bond was glowing- thriving from their overt actions.

“Who are you going to give it to, then? _ Hmmm? _ Who is it?” Minho let his tone drop as he pressed closer. Bending Jisung backwards with minimal force, pliant and trusting, filled the elder with childish glee. Even in public- they still unquestionably belonged with each other.

As his back curved towards its limit, Jisung floundered. Arms swinging in panicked circles, he clutched onto the nearest solid mass.

Which (instinctively?) happened to be the exact place where Minho was holding his straps.

“Don’t think you’ll get out of this by holding my hands. If you wanted to do that, you could’ve just asked.”

Minho leaned in with a smirk as he slowly pulled the boy further. Jisung was dazed- reeling from all the pushing and pulling. 

The elder was careful, intertwining their fingers together as he watched a glaze grow in Jisung’s eyes. The boy’s lips were moving, but no sounds were being made. He looked like a fish out of water.

Straightening their postures, Minho chuckled. He was taking far too much pleasure in watching the effect of proximity on his soulmate. Simultaneously- it worried him. If Jisung reacted so strongly when they were together… what was going to happen when they parted? For an extended period of time? It wasn’t as if they were going to be in separate rooms of the house.

“A name, Sunshine.”

The warning bell rang faintly through the neighborhood; the familiar, shrill echo caused Jisung to startle in Minho’s hold. There was ten minutes until school started. He’d never been late before- and definitely didn’t want to instigate whispers as he limped in, noticeably last, to his first hour class.

The words came out faint, his vocal cords uncooperative, “Lee Minho.”

Eyes widening in surprise, Minho gaped. He was mesmerized. Caught up in his own soulmate-induced stupor. How was it possible… for his name- which he’d heard his entire life- to sound like _ that? _

“Say it again.”

“Huh?”

“Say my name.”

“Lee Minho-?”

The boy sighed, hands unconsciously tightening around Jisung’s as his eyes fell closed.

“Leeeee MIIIIIINNHOOO! YOU’RE GOING TO MAKE ME LATE AND I’VE ALREADY MISSED ENOUGH SCHOOL! I LOVE YOU- BUT, I HAVE TO GO!!” 

With a final squeeze and a blindingly bright smile, Jisung spun and speed-limped away.

He made it to class on time- just barely. After nearly tripping in his haste. _ Twice. _

Didn’t matter much because none of Jisung’s classes- or the stares he garnered, regardless of his actions- registered in his brain. His wandering imagination actively protected him from the environment that had recently become less than welcoming. Instead of being present in the lessons, Jisung found himself wondering what his day would be like after school finished. What would happen when he could be with the clan- back in a place where he was quickly becoming comfortable enough to be himself. Where he could be with Minho, again.

Jisung spent the entire day mindlessly taking brief notes on all the coursework that they ‘urgently needed to catch up on’, significant dates for testing, and definitions that he definitely needed to look up later- because there was _ no way _ that he was actively listening.

How had those words slipped out of his mouth so easily? So carelessly? In broad daylight? He hadn’t even been able to watch Minho’s reaction as he ran away.

But- still- they weren’t a lie.

There was no way, at this point, that Jisung could deny loving Lee Minho.

Regardless of all the chaos that surrounded him... the danger of the competition… and the craziness of the clan... _ and _all of their foriegn traditions: he loved him.

There was no point in denying it and some deeper part of Jisung was too worried about the competition and their bold enemies to hide from his feelings.

It would be too easy to lose Minho to the vicious savages that sought his feline body- dead, or alive- for monetary gains and unnamed fortunes.

What if Minho _ was _caught?

What if they managed to get him?

Hurt, or tortured or, kil-

“Hyung, are you okay?”

He’d return their acts. Jisung had no doubts about that. After accepting their bond- he’d kill for his soulmate. After all- what did he have to lose? Honestly. The thought of losing Minho- Jisung didn’t want to think of it. Ever. _ Never _ ever. Still, it didn’t bother him in the least that he’d take a life for the elder. He was in _ that _ deep already.

Jeongin tried again, leaning over the table, though the rambunctious nature of the lunch room could easily overpower his words: “_ Jisung-hyung.” _

Jisung jerked up, his neck cracking with the sharp movement. A noise of confusion broke from his throat.

“Are you _ okay? _”

Truthfully, the bond was weighing on Jisung more than he’d admit- even to himself. The strain was slowly growing more noticeable, despite his efforts to ignore it.

He’d gotten through pre-calculus well enough (bored, but that wasn’t anything new). History class was somehow even _ more _ boring and Jisung struggled the entire time to keep his eyes open. Home Ec had been filled with various recipes and “mini-challenges” that the teacher had encouraged them to attempt after school hours- a feat that would once have Jisung left cowering in shame at his inadequacies, now had him excited and curious. (Maybe, he’d be able to borrow Woojin’s kitchen and try out the cookie recipe?). 

The heat coming from the ovens had been enough to convince Jisung that he wasn’t cold.

English, where he had stupidly sat next to the windows and beneath a wretched air conditioner, was where the suffering began.

At the time, it seemed self inflicted. After all, it was sunny. Even if the rays weren’t directly warming him, the outer world was bright with activity and the colors were mesmerizingly bold. Life was carrying on beautifully.

Yet- the small tremors that sunk into his bones the moment he stepped away from the ovens only seemed to spread. Subtle shivers that weren’t visible initially grew to disrupt his writing; and, eventually caused Jisung to accidentally knock papers off of his desk when they were asked to pass back new handouts. Snickers ensued.

Thankfully, the eldest couple had packed him various finger foods- no utensils necessary. (It was just one of the phenomena that Jisung would probably never adjust to- _ actually _ having lunch. Or, more apt, consistent meals. It all still felt too foreign- in mind and stomach.)

Jeongin had compared their lunches the moment they sat- commenting on how the noodle dish that Seungmin had packed was regretfully warm because the food wasn’t in an insulated container, only a plastic tub. Though, that had probably been a conscious decision on the puppy’s part- his small shows of aggression came out in unsuspecting ways. (Jeongin admitted to hiding one of his soulmate’s favorite squeaky toys because he’d been trying to study and the shift sometimes has _ way too much _ pent up energy after a long school day. It didn’t help that Hyunjin hadn’t been there as a buffer.)

Jisung’s box, on the other hand, was carefully arranged with a wide variety of snacks. (He didn’t know why, but the others kept giving him _ so much. _ Was it because he was, by far, noticeably less filled out, in comparison to everyone else? Because he was new and they all seemed to baby him? At least to some extent? Or, because they pitied his background- that they still didn’t even fully know. The conscious care made him flush every time he looked down at the assortment. He did hope, though, that it was out of the eldest duo’s habits and not due to pity or his lacking attributes. Jisung had accepted enough from them, as it was.)

In reality, it was obvious the clan was carefully monitoring his food intake. As if there were a secret discretionary alliance to fatten Jisung up and make sure he was a satisfactory, healthy weight. In those efforts there was no room for frugality. After all, there were already eight of them- what big of a difference did one more mouth, of a particularly small boy, make? Woojin, in his own quiet ways, was the most stern in enforcing the necessity of giving Jisung the most options for his path of recovery.

Remembering he’d been addressed, Jisung numbly nodded, allowing his eyes to drop away from the maknae’s soft inquisition.

He was already filled with so many thoughts, sorting through the sea to find an adequate answer that would satisfy the Jeongin drained what little energy Jisung had left. “I’ve been worse.” The words were dry and empty, like a desert after a fierce sandstorm. It took conscious effort for Jisung to force each syllable out.

“Text him.”

Shocked at the implication, Jisung looked at Jeongin. The stern tone wasn’t one he was used to hearing from the boy- especially not directed at him.

The ‘him’ was obvious- there was only one him that hadn’t left his mind since he’d entered the awful building.

Jisung was stronger than his emotions. Prided himself on his ability to resist his instincts and deal with the suck until he reached the very last strand of his will. Which was followed by the sweet relief which would swaddle every cell in his body was beginning to cry for. He was determined to make it through one. little. school day. All on his own. No giving in. No losing to a bond which hadn’t even existed days ago.

Under their small table, Jeongin settled one of his knees against Jisung’s. The effect, though small, sang harmoniously to both boys. It wasn’t as grand as the soul-shaking heat that Minho’s touch brought; or, as calming as Chan’s soft security. But, it was _ something _.

The bouncing of his leg, that Jisung had interpreted as mere nerves from the public environment, ceased immediately. His breathing, which had been shallow for _ hours _, slowly grew deeper. The rod that had found its way into his back, fell away. Jisung felt, as part by part, his entire body relaxed.

What was happening to him?

Was the withdrawal hitting him _ that _bad? After only a few short hours? 

Jisung wanted to laugh at his own weakness. Despite all of the shit he’d been through, the lacking presence of _ one _person was ruining him. Making him a dependent slave to his emotions.

“I…. I can’t. Won’t.”

If Jeongin was a shot and Chan a pitcher- Minho was a fucking keg. And poor Han Jisung was prone to addiction.

“Do it. You don’t _ have _to leave, if you don’t want to. Remember. He’s going through the same experiences. You’re bound. And not alone in this. I can help you for now. But… if it gets too bad... think about it. For Minho-hyung’s sake.”

The misery that Jisung was dealing with only bothered him because it was interfering with his school work. How was Minho supposed to complete his work though? In a cafe full of delicate dishware, or in a kitchen with a bunch of dangerous possibilities… there was no way he was trying to push through it, right? He wouldn’t try to tough it out and work surrounded by sharp edges and hot objects… right???

**To: Minho-hyung**

**Hey**

Jeongin looked proud as he watched the message being sent. His leg stayed in place as he leaned back with a triumphant trumpeting cadence and stuffed his face for the rest of the period.

**From: Minho-hyung**

**hey **

**Is everything okay?**

** Yeah. I guess. Jeongin told me to text you.**

Jisung? Own up to his own desperate state? Never. Even if he was hanging onto his phone like a lifeline, food completely forgotten, he wouldn’t admit to texting the elder without a purpose. As much Jisung wanted to know if the Minho was suffering in the same ways he was- he wasn’t expecting much from the conversation.

Certainly didn’t want to entertain how the immediate, concerned response had warmed his insides and made him smile.

Minho was real. Never far away. And _ always _caring. From the first time they’d met.

**You’re letting a baby boss you around?**

** A baby that saved me from becoming the youngest case of Parkinson’s in the world.**

Crass, but accurate. It was almost sad, how easy it was to let the discomfort kindle into a fire too seering to handle on his own. His entire life, it’d been so easy to exist independently. To chase his own dreams and think nothing of the present.

Now, though…. Jisung had a reason to live. Several of them, actually.

**Lover boy isn’t doing any better. Trust me. He hasn’t let go, since he came back. **

** ?**

**Binnie binnie seems to think its funny to steal my phone. Not that he hasnt been reading over my shoulder this entire time anyway.**

**Shouldnt you be paying attention to your teacher**

**?**

** I’m at lunch. For the next ten minutes. **

**Ah**

**Hows the food? Heard Woojinnie hyung went all in this morning.**

For some reason, Jisung found himself laughing. It wasn’t all that funny. But, the thought that they’d been talking about him when he wasn’t present triggered something within him. Like he wasn’t just an object to be appreciated when it was present.

He left the thought aside for later exploration.

** Really good. I’ve never had any of it before, but it’s really good.**

Looking down at the box, the amount seemed less burdensome than it had a couple of minutes ago. A package of gummies, neon in color with little cartoon characters, caught his attention. Jisung munched away at the snack, absentmindedly lifting the food to his mouth as he remained transfixed on his soulmate’s messages.

** Have you eaten, yet?**

**Channie hyung’s making some soup. Smells weird though. Think he might be trying out a new recipe.**

** We got a few new recipes in my cooking class today! The salsa one looks disgusting but there’s one for chocolate chip cookies!!!!**

**If you want cookies you could just ask.**

Jisung didn’t know why he didn’t think of that. His soulmate literally owns a bakery. He’s even watched him bake before. Even after Jisung nearly ruined the entire experience- everything turned out delicious.

Shamelessly, Jisung wondered what kind of cookies Minho would make him.

Chocolate chip? Snickerdoodle? Plain old sugar cookies? Triple chocolate chunk WITH white chocolate, too?! 

Now, his interest was piqued.

** Not after last time. I’m too scared to go in a kitchen alone again.**

**I’ll make them.**

His heart skipped. 

Jeongin was seemingly lost in his own phone, gleefully laughing as he texted someone before suddenly throwing his head back and the sound increased ten-fold.

Another text pulled Jisung’s attention back.

**It’ll be okay.**

Jisung choked, rendered momentarily speechless by the words that hit somewhere far too close to his core.

Minho wasn’t talking about cookies anymore.

** Just a couple more hours, right?**

**If thats what you want. Ill be outside to pick you up when your classes are done.**

** Okay. Thanks hyung.**

**Always.**

**And tell Innie to stop texting Felix. The idiots laughing so hard hes wheezing. Hes going to choke on soup.**

Looking across at the younger, who was staring back with shocked eyes, Jisung was saved by the bell.

During their goodbyes, Jeongin was purposefully handsy- helping Jisung to adjust his backpack straps and pack his things- and went as far as to hug the older boy before they reluctantly parted for their respective classes.

Did Jeongin feel the same way as he did when they touched? Any possible impact on the younger was unnoticeable.

The warmth that had been kindled for the entire period carried him through his final two classes, lingering enough that he managed to play completely through his piano warm-ups without missing a single arpeggio. 

When the cold threatened to sink into his body towards the end of his free period, Jisung pulled out his phone again.

Re-reading their earlier conversation, Minho’s words always seemed to have underlying meanings. Dual-intentioned consolations that calmed his body to a state he could remind himself that distance wasn’t _ bad _.

They needed to learn to work autonomously. Learn how to be their own people. 

Though they’d just discovered the _ one _ being that completed their existence in a way that was unapologetic and too-perfectly reassuring- distance wasn’t bad.

It would be better for them to be apart.

To be able to experience the world as separate, but equal, beings.

That would be for the best. 

Obviously.

...right?

It wouldn’t be realistic for them to be attached together, at the hip, for the rest of their lives.

But- Woojin and Chan managed it. Had been together since they were little.

Changbin and Felix weren’t much different. Felix even attended some of Changbin’s classes. Then spent time at the elder’s studio while he composed- _ just because he could. _

What would it _ really _ be like if he and Minho grew to be that close? Were inseparable and never tired of their soulmate’s presence? Were two people referred to as a single unit because people knew- if one was going or doing, so was the other.

Did he really want to be like Hyunjin, Seungmin, and Jeongin? 

To function for extended periods alone- in a world where he had nothing? Nothing but himself?

Possessing freedom while constantly battling the insecurity of their bond? Part of Jisung _ knew _ that he relished seeing the physical effects of how the bond affected their relationship. He yearned for and savored the moments in which they could only find solace in each other.

Five minutes before the period ended, Jisung gave into his excitement.

**To: Minho-hyung**

**Hyung, where are you?**

He couldn’t help it. Maybe it was needy. Revealed just how much he was desperate to be with the other. Said too much about how he hated the thought of being left alone after being showered in constant affection. Maybe he was spoiled. A mere kid that was drowning in the ease of being doted on and cared for.

_ Really- _ what kind of senior got picked up from school? By their soulmate who was older _ and _ a successful entrepreneur. The contrast in where they were at in their lives was comical.

In the future, he needed to find a way to return the endless debts that he’d incurred since meeting the members of the clan. Their generosity could only go unreciprocated for so long.

The reply came, just as the final bell rang. Jisung shot out of his seat, backpack already settled over his shoulders, and left the school as if it were truly on fire.

**From: Minho-hyung**

**Outside the gate.**

As fast as his ankle would tolerate, and a _ little _bit more, Jisung pushed through the crowds. His sight tunnel-visioned, the exit gate the only structure he could properly focus on.

He broke passed it, practically out of breath, as if it were the ribbon at the end of the marathon.

To the right, a couple leaps away, was Minho.

The elder was still looking at his phone, a slight frown on his face, when Jisung threw himself at his soulmate.

Weights unexpectedly combined, Minho hit the brick wall with a sharp, “oof”. After a few seconds of awkward hesitation, his hands came up to steady them- one on the wall and one around Jisung’s waist.

“Hi.”

Jisung responded with a muffled “hi” of his own, his head buried deep into the crook of the elder’s neck.

They didn’t detach as time faded away, in a shared, heated haze, as they waited outside the entrance. Minho’s arms locked around Jisung’s back tightly, his cheek resting against the blonde crown. The combination of their restored bond and the strong, afternoon Sun wrapped Jisung into a cocoon of euphoria that was unparalleled. 

Fuck the standards- being picked up (literally) was the best way to end the school day. Hands down.

Voices of various groups of people grew and dispersed like mist, the background noise unheard by the pair of soulmates. 

One voice managed to break through, light and teasing in its accusation: “hmmmm~ wonder what this could be about?”

“Shut up, brat.”

“I spyyy, with my little eyeeee~”

Minho reached out quickly, whacking the boy across the head with a playful smack.

“Say more and you don’t get dinner.”

“That’s petty, hyung.”

“Damn right.” The following words were soft and lulling, the changed reciprocant obvious to the younger two. “Sunshine. Let’s get going. Just need to drop by the cafe before heading home, okay?”

Jisung sighed, pressing closer before slowly altering his grip so that he was latched tightly onto Minho’s arm, head rested sleepily against the familiar shoulder. The hold was tight, borderline painful for Minho, as if Jisung were afraid that they would separate permanently if they weren’t attached physically. 

The bond was thriving with the reconnection.

On the way to the cafe, the boys talked with Jisung in the middle, _ again _; though, this time he found that it didn’t bother him. He was merely content to be in the presence of his soulmate again, the hormones creating a high that he was more than happy to wallow in.

When they arrived, at long last, Jeongin parted with a pat on Jisung's shoulder that was barely registered over the thick, pleasant hum present in the boy’s head.

Words bounced around the cafe in a distant echo, none of even mild importance to Jisung. Business seemed to be doing okay. The window was already fixed, too. The too-recent, vivid nightmares made Jisung shiver and press himself into Minho; the body that would guide and undoubtedly protect him.

That he would, unquestioningly, do the same for. At a time that wasn’t now- because the thoughts in his brain were jumbled right now and _ nothing _could bother him.

Minho, uncaring of the curious glances they were receiving from customers throughout the establishment, turned to the boy. Turning them so that they were face to face, he nudged Jisung’s chin up so that they could look at each other.

It was obvious to everyone that saw: Jisung was less than present. With eyes glazed and cheeks flushed to a rosey pink, he looked deeply intoxicated.

“Ji- there’s someone here that wants to talk. To you.”

The thought of actually having to interact made Jisung’s face scrunch up in distaste. He was floating so nicely through the world with his dependable guide- why were there always things trying to ruin his mood? Jisung just wanted to be happy.

Minho chuckled at the honest, childish reaction, bringing his hands up to Jisung’s shoulders in an effort to ground the boy- at least slightly.

“If you don’t want to, you don’t have to. She’s been here a couple of hours, waiting. Changbin and Felix are talking to her now and she hasn’t noticed that we’re here. If you want to leave- we can go now. But… Jisung, your mother’s here.”

Jisung's knees gave out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stay healthy and make some cookies~  
°˖✧◝(⁰▿⁰)◜✧˖°


	44. [43] Sorry Cloud!Chan!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well... this didn't go as planned.  
Everyone say "hi!" to Psycho!Ji.  
°˖✧◝(⁰▿⁰)◜✧˖°

Mrs. Han looked agitated with a heaping side of aggravated.

With Jisung’s meek assent, Changbin had escorted her into the conference room and sat at the complete opposite end of the table. Current staffing required that at least one of them had to leave- they had a business to maintain, after all- and Changbin volunteered himself for the position upon seeing his soulmate’s hard gauze stuck to the strange woman. 

Since the moment Jisung’s strong reaction had occurred, all three clan members had been on high alert. Minho, shamelessly, had his arms wrapped around his mate, nose sunk into the smaller’s shoulder.

Jisung’s body was consumed with a tension that even Minho’s hands and soft hums couldn’t eliminate. No matter how much he tried to remind himself about where he was and those he was with, nothing could stop his brain from chaotically connecting dots. There was something off about his mother, but he couldn’t figure out  _ what _ . 

It wasn’t superficial- Jisung wouldn’t let himself be distracted by fancy clothes and curled,  _ dyed _ hair. He’d seen enough whores crawling around the streets- dressed in their fake, inexpensive jewels and painfully high heels- to know the archetype.

Learning about her (new?) occupation wasn’t all that surprising.

Honestly, it was more shocking that she hadn’t fallen into it sooner- his mother wasn’t old. Wasn’t wrinkly or overly unattractive. Surely, there had been  _ some _ sort of scummy clientele out there that were willing to pay.

Maybe, a sick part of him surmised, if it’d happened sooner he would’ve had an actual home. Or, at least, an upgraded tent. Maybe, his mother would’ve been able to quit her other three jobs. All the maybes made his head swim.

In his current path, Jisung had very little to speculate. For the first time, there were more certain facts in his life that overwhelmed worries. The clan, their affections, the care and protection they’d openly provided… none of it left Jisung doubting. For the first time- he knew his place in life. No matter how ugly the following interaction got, there would still be a bed waiting for him at home.

After Changbin had shut the door, the room had fallen into heavy silence.Felix was acting as a sentry, his frozen from where he’d stationed himself against the wall behind Mrs. Han. Both of the shifters seemed content in waiting, allowing the humans to stare across the table and analyze the considerable change in environment.

Jisung knew he normally should’ve been embarrassed about being bundled up in the lap of a boy his mother had never met before; but, honestly- Jisung was content. 

Her presence was a mere speed bump in his happiness. That realization, itself, was mildly alarming. Once, she’d been the source of all of his motivation; his purpose and drive. But, there’d been  _ so much _ going on recently in his life, that it was hard to process everything: gaining a soulmate and a caring, present family; becoming employed- not that he’d really even worked, yet;  _ moving _ ….

His mother, despite being the person he’d attached his entire life to and dedicated himself to working to help, was finally right there in front of him. As an equal. After two weeks of silence- not to mention the period of time which she’d been absent from his life beforehand.

More than Jisung had ever realized, the clan had become his life. A dark part of his mind nagged- the one that he fought alone, in the depths of his nightmares- that he hadn’t even shared his full story with them. The boys knew the bare minimum about Jisung and it was evident through the careful and unsure way with which they handled his mother.

Jisung, himself, wasn’t any different. How was he supposed to approach her? What had she been doing while they were apart?  _ Who? _

Their existences felt so separate. Where was the person that had raised him? The one that showered him with praise and always made sure that he was warm during the cold, winter nights?

The woman across from them at the table was dressed like his principal- prim and professional. Look complete with pearls and an a-line skirt. Her posture; the pleasantries she’d exchanged before entering the oppressive room; even her wrinkles seemed foreign.

Minho sensed the wariness instantaneously, having had picked up Jisung from the cafe’s entryway and refused to let him go since. His grip tightened as Jisung inhaled to speak.

“Jisun-” 

“How did you find me?” He interrupted, not wanting his name in the mouth of a stranger. 

She looked shocked. Perhaps it was his words; though, Jisung would bet that it was his impolite and interrogatory tone. There was no time to waste talking to a liar. Especially not one that’d left him to freeze and starve.

“What do you mean, honey? I’ve been so worried, you haven’t been-”

“ _ How?” _ There was no way she could’ve- would’ve?- done it on her own. A sick feeling swirled around Jisung’s stomach. Somewhere out there, there was a person keeping tabs on him. On everyone he’d come to love. If they were lucky, his mother had found his location by calling the school out of pure, motherly worry.

The school would be the only authorities to know where he was ‘living’; when Jisung had given them his ‘guardians’ contact information, he’d been forced to hand over their address. 

Not to Minho’s house- there was no way he’d give them that. 

It’d been the cafe’s location. 

So that, if anyone asked about it, the clan members could rattle off their infallible story: Jisung was conducting a work exchange to gain experience, in exchange for room and board. No monetary compensation was included and his guardians approved of the situation. Everything checked out legally, without needing the education system’s permission, and Woojin’s father had easily agreed to vouch for the idea, if need be.

His mother was silent. Maybe to strangers, her ticks were hidden. But, not to Jisung.

There had been rare occasions in which he actually got to see his mother lose her temper. Usually, she was wallowing in despair; too concerned with basic necessities to waste additional energy on caustic expressions. But,  _ this  _ woman…. There was a slight twitch in her left eye and her leg had gained the most minute of bounces… like a mouse that had seen a trap and couldn’t find a way to avoid it.

Her avoidance only served to piss Jisung off.

He didn’t want to waste his clanmates' time; let alone, his own. Not on someone who’d rarely given Jisung their own time.

_ Truly,  _ he wasn’t one to get annoyed often. Jisung  _ liked _ to be patient.  _ Liked _ to allow others to have the opportunity to explain themselves without having to force answers out of them.

This wasn’t one of those times.

This  _ woman- _ who dared to associate herself with the role of his parental figure- had decided to stroll into his  _ chosen home _ and disrupt the peace that he’d found after  _ so long _ ? No. He didn’t have time for her.

Underneath the pyre of rage which had sparked  _ so  _ easily, Jisung was frightened by the intensity of his feelings. They’d all protected and cherished Jisung to the extent that he was forever indebted and attached- he couldn’t lose them. Especially to a person (or, people) that had kept him teetering at the edge of death for the past eighteen years.

Decision made, Jisung wriggled out of a very confused Minho’s lap and walked over to his mother, unbuttoning his blazer and loosening his tie as he went. The heat from his soulmate had been stoking a fire that his mind had created the tinder for- and now, Jisung was nothing short of furious.

After living like animals in the midst of a garbage pit, barely surviving, rarely even having the opportunity to see each other- she shows up to his  _ clan  _ looking like some cheap arm piece? There was so much missing from the story that Jisung was beside himself.

Had she been lying? 

Was his entire life a lie?

He almost didn’t care- wanted to leave it all behind and ignore everything but his future with Minho and the clan _ .  _

But, Jisung was insatiable. How could he  _ not  _ attack the dangling answers that were  _ there _ \- just under his nose?

Felix watched him with keen eyes, body taut, as Jisung neared his mother.

Much to his glee, her pupils were blown wide, searching for answers that he had hidden underneath a mask of impatient confidence. Pressed heavily into the chair, his mother’s hands dug into the arm rests- as if grounding herself before an impending attack.

Jisung grinned as her breathing visibly shallowed. There was no way she’d ever seen him like  _ this  _ before- so bold and self-assured. Up close, the evidence of Jisung’s weight progress was glaringly obvious. His cheeks were rounder, eyes bright and vigilant, even the hair on his head glowed with life. 

The only son this woman knew was a scared, dependent child who cried whenever the drunks in the streets got too loud.

Even Minho was staring on in wonder, the weight of his attention settled over Jisung like a coat of armor. For once, he felt completely in control. Despite the emotional undercurrent, Jisung was rational and careful in his actions. His smile grew. Some sick part of him wanted Minho to watch. To understand that he wasn’t  _ always  _ helpless and frail. To understand that Jisung, too, could defend their clan.

Bending down closer, a strange- yet familiar- perfume drifted into Jisung’s nose. His nose scrunched in distaste; though, Jisung maintained the distance out of necessity. It was superficial, the kind of fragrance that was manufactured and clashed with one’s natural scent. Jisung briefly wondered what he thought he smelled like. Probably, Minho’s soaps. The thought didn’t bother him in the slightest.

“How did you  _ know- _ ” he paused to step further, a leg pushing into the chair’s plush seat- “that I was  _ here? _ ” 

She gaped, mouth opening and closing wordlessly. As if inspecting, Jisung slowly looked the woman up and down. Her skirt was cheap- pressed to look expensive, but ill-fitting. The seams were pitifully struggling to contain her frail legs; fuzzy threads were barely holding together. In some places, the improper treatment from an iron had singed the fabric into hard plastic. Underneath his gaze, she squirmed and looked everywhere but her son.

Jisung’s voice dropped an octave as he clicked his tongue, thoroughly annoyed, “I’m not going to ask again.”

“I- I…” Her voice dropped off into a whisper. 

“You  _ what? _ Can’t look at me when you’re talking? Couldn’t bother leaving a note to say ‘hey, I’m alive’? Left me alone to die? You what,  _ mother _ ?” He would’ve been breathing fire, had it been possible. The heat radiating from Jisung’s skin was intoxicating, making him wish he’d taken off his blazer earlier, or maybe just changed completely.

He snorted at the image of excusing himself to change into a more comfortable, Interrogation Outfit. It’d be a power move, but it would drag the unfortunate event out more and that wasn’t what anyone wanted.

“They told me...”

“ _ Who?”  _ Jisung pulled away, removing himself from the repulsive scent that enveloped her. 

The disgust and annoyance was beginning to bleed through. As much as he wanted to lose himself in it, this wasn’t the time. Instead, he plopped onto the table in front of where her chair had yet to be pushed in. Part of him hoped that Minho wouldn’t mind the rude gesture. That was something he could deal with later. 

Maintaining his command over her personal space, Jisung spread his legs and leaned forward, elbows resting on top of his knees. “ _ Obviously _ , someone told you.  _ Who _ ?”

His mother stilled, dilated eyes now locked on her son. The malice, openly displayed, made her flinch. It’d always been reinforced that they might not have had money- but, they still had character. Money didn’t dictate who they were as people- pride and conscious decisions made them into the people they chose to be.

Before all of them: Jisung was blooming, unabashed.

“Can’t we talk about this in private?” She forced out, voice strained.

_ That  _ made him laugh. Directly into her face.

The way that her eyes flicked around, no doubt in Minho and Felix’s directions, had him cackling to the point he had to catch himself on the table’s edge before he fell.

And then he stopped.

The room was silent, again, as Jisung tilted his head with a coy smirk on his face.

“Whatever you want to say to  _ me-  _ you can say in front of  _ them.” _

Looking back over his shoulder, Jisung gestured for Minho to come over. A simple, crook of two fingers had his soulmate rising. The unquestioning obedience fueled the confidence of Jisung’s current head space; his  _ beautiful  _ lover, silently waiting until called for. Trusting Jisung to take care of the situation without interrupting.

Jisung reached out with both arms the moment Minho was within range. Drawing the elder into his side, he was pleased to find their height difference allowed him to perfectly tuck his head underneath Minho’s chin; a reprieve of comfort from the dramatics that were going on seconds prior.

To his benefit, the shifter didn’t miss a beat in wrapping Jisung up in his arms. Reunited, Minho sighed and closed his eyes. No matter the place, or circumstances, they would always be together.

Mrs. Han scoffed at the interruption, having lost some of her trepidation after Jisung directed his attention elsewhere.

The sound broke Jisung out of his comfortable trance.

Tapping Minho lightly on his back, they separated a short distance to look at each other. 

Unfitting against the room’s tension, Jisung was glowing happily; eyes forming crescents as he giggled quietly. The innately childish behavior continued as the boy rubbed his cheek along Minho’s collar, taking in the cinnamon scent and reassuring himself that his soulmate was still present- and not rejecting him after his atypical behavior. 

The darkness in Jisung snapped forward as his mother made yet  _ another _ disagreeable sound. Couldn’t he just have  _ one _ moment to himself without her ruining it?

“You’re really shameless, now, aren’t you? The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, I see.”

Minho stiffened around him at the insinuation, body going taut with the instinct to defend. Feeling Minho’s hidden shackles agitated, Jisung pulled him back in. Mouth close to the elder’s ear- the one opposite his mother- Jisung murmured, “let me handle this.”

A tremor ran through Minho at the low words.

“Trust me.”

The private plea- a promise and a declaration in the same, short sentence- had Minho shaking with the effort to separate himself and go against his natural instincts. After a few heavy breaths, the boy nodded and retreated back to his usual seat. This time, however, Minho didn’t relax. 

Turning back to his mother, Jisung let the unfamiliar persona take over.

Looking at his nails, Jisung picked at a spot absentmindedly, his words flowing with a wanton air: “maybe you’re right.”

She looked shocked at the admission, thoroughly expecting a harsh rebuttal. But, Jisung wasn’t about to waste undue energy on such pathetic attempts at provocation.

“If I’m the apple, I must’ve fallen  _ right _ under the rotten tree that you are. The one who can’t  _ provide.  _ The one that depends on  _ every  _ living thing in the neighborhood to water it’s roots  _ just _ so that it can feel needed.” Jisung kept his voice light, as if he were reading a pitiful story to children. “What a life. To depend on everyone else for your self worth. But- that’s only because you can’t accept the truth, isn’t it?”

Glancing up, his mother’s face had drained of color. She was pale as a flimsy sheet of paper

It was too easy.

Jisung dropped his hand. 

Legs swinging, eyes fixed on the ceiling- she wasn’t worthy of his attention- he sighed. How was he going to drive his point home, so that she understood what he wanted? So that she never bothered him- or the clan- ever again.

There was still a spec of longing within him, the wishfulness that she’d been the mother he needed. That the woman in front of him had been able to fulfill the role she so foolishly claimed to hold. How was it possible that- within less than three weeks- Minho and the clan had showered him with more affection than she had in  _ eighteen years? _

Sure, there’d been complications, but-

Jisung shook his head. The time for tangents was long over. He was getting hungry and the longer he looked at his mother, the longer the anger suppressed his appetite and made him wish for carnage.

So, he jumped off the table and stepped up to her. Arms bracketing her into the small space of the chair, he leaned in once again and resisted the urge to gag. His mother’s eyes widened at his proximity, but quickly dropped to focus on her hands, which were resting tensely in her lap.

“If you think- for any  _ singular  _ moment- that I’m  _ anything _ like you-”

“You don’t know anyth-” she began pathetically, cowering away from his presence.

“Do  _ not _ .” Jisung paused for emphasis, taking a deep breath in an effort to maintain control. “Don’t  _ fucking  _ interrupt me.”

The blatant disrespect seemed to spark something within her eyes, the twitch in her leg returning though she maintained her shrunken posture.

“The- it was the school. They told me. Asked me to check on you.” Of course, she hadn’t been the one to ask about him. Jisung’s disdain grew at the confession. “You gave them some weird address. Why did you give them this place’s address? You don’t live here.” Her words made Jisung bite his tongue. It wasn’t any of her business where he was sleeping and how he spent his time. Not like she’d ever truly cared before. “They contacted me because they were concerned. The school’s worried about you, Jisung. They wanted to know if you were eating and cared for.”

“Not like you would know.” The venom dripped, directly from Jisung’s tongue into her ears.

He watched with amusement as it stung every pore, settled in, and spread.

A sick laugh cracked through the room as Jisung threw his head back.

“‘ _ THEY,’”  _ he yelled, the single word loud enough to echo through the room before Jisung managed to reign his flaring emotions back in. 

Felix jumped at the change in volume, his head hitting the wall before he resumed his former position. A quick glance at his twin told Jisung that the boy was fine, physically. At most, the impact had slightly jarred his brain. 

It wasn’t enough to distract Jisung from pursuing his mid-day interrogation.

Continuing in a harsh, resentful whisper, Jisung leveled a dark look of scorn at his only parent: “ _ they’re _ the ones who are  _ single-handedly  _ trying to ruin my life. So! I would appreciate if you would kindly tell them to fuck  _ off _ . I’m  _ fine _ .” Jisung straightened and took a step back, throwing his arm nonchalantly in the direction of the door. Her eyes followed his hand. “Tell your pimp he needs a tighter leash on his merchandise. Don’t come back here.”

When she didn’t move, Jisung’s voice lightened to a fake, customer service level and he gestured at the door, again-  _ just _ in case her bird-brain didn’t process the indication the first time. “You can leave, now. I have nothing more to say to you.”

His concluding words seemed to break a gasket. The woman’s entire body flushed and her hands, which were balled into tight fists, opened and closed against her thighs.

Genuinely, Jisung had nothing more to say. He was done yearning for affection from a person who had barely been present in his life. Throughout his entire adolescence, his mother always took on random jobs. Most of them paid terribly and required exhausting hours, so it was, undoubtedly, a low blow for him to mention her most lucrative career. But Jisung was done. The final nail in the coffin had to be deep enough that she would never be able to crawl out of it.

Flippantly, the boy spun and made his way back to Minho. The motion had tweaked his ankle slightly, though Jisung was far too into his head to realize. The elder of the soulmates, noticed the slight twinge in the boy’s steps; however, and leaped up to meet Jisung midway.

Mrs. Han had similar actions, driven by opposing motives.

The moment that Jisung turned his back, she leaped. With a shriek, the woman launched her body over the table at the small boy.

Felix was faster.

He’d been waiting- watching as each of the muscles in her body tightened. His feline reflexes broke through as he restrained Jisung’s mother, jerking her away with fingers digging into her throat and an arm around her thin waist.

The woman choked as she continued to press forward against Felix’s hand, disgusting gurgles filling the room.

Growls resounded from both shifters; two low pitches harmonizing to shake the windows against their sills.

Jisung was moved faster than his brain could register, Minho taking up a protective stance in front of the human as they took in the aggressive woman.

Within Felix’s unbreakable grasp, she was flailing and spitting out muddled curses. Resembling less the high-class housewife and more the feral, un-fed mongrel.

“Those  _ men _ are the rea’n  _ you  _ evwen  _ exist _ ! You ungra’ful, little burd-! You don’t ev’n kwnow what I went through!” She hacked, nearly doubling over from the force of her efforts. Felix repositioned his hand- covered in spit- with a grimace, catching her throat easily in the crook of his arm so that he could swiftly change into a choke hold, if need be. “Having to deal with them! With him!  _ WITH YOU!?! _ ”

The door swung open- cutting off her hysterics- to reveal Changbin in all his dark,  _ furious,  _ glory. If he were a shifter, undoubtedly, his own growls would be overpowering the others’. 

Instead, with the most insincere smile, Changbin spoke through gritted teeth, “excuse me, ma’am. I think you’ve overstayed your welcome. I regretfully have to inform you that you are hereby banned from our establishment and if you decide to break this declaration, we will immediately report you to the local authorities. And if you continue to disrupt our business- I’m afraid we’ll have to handle the issue, ourselves. No one wants that. Felix, if you would.” The short boy pointed towards the front door with a stiff hand.

Felix complied, dragging a very uncooperative Mrs. Han through the main area.

Always the one to have the last word, she continued to yell: “you think they will give a shit what  _ you  _ have to say? I’ve slept with every single one of those dumb, fuck sticks!  _ EVEN THE MARRIED ONES! _ Their chief-” with a none-too-gentle shove, she was thrown out to the street and the cafe door was slammed and locked. 

Her screeching continued, though most of it was blocked by the glass. She looked utterly psychotic in her attempts to ridicule Jisung and his clan.

Casually, Felix rolled the blinds down and closed them. The cafe, lit only by the overhead lights, was cast into a warm, golden glow.

Turning to the myriad of customers- since reopening, there had been a higher number of patrons than usual- Changbin bowed while brushing off his apron:

“Please excuse the interruption, ladies and gentleman. I apologize for the disruption of your afternoon breaks; and hope you can find it within yourselves to forgive us for taking out the trash regretfully late. In return for your gracious understanding, there will be free refills on the house. For safety purposes, we ask that you wait to leave until the trash has rolled itself away.” 

An oppressive silence fell as the dark haired human walked over to the countertop and plopped down, picking up his book with an aloof expression. Better to react calmly than scare the sheep away.

A slow clap rolled through the room. A few of the regular patrons nestled in the corner cheered about free drinks; while others were excitedly chattering about trying some of the new drinks on the menu.

One particularly loud and deep call- “wah! Changbin-hyung’s so cool~!!”- was enough to snap Minho out of his daze. Turning sharply, he didn’t hesitate to pull Jisung into his body. Completely forgetting about the possibility of onlookers, Minho easily scooped the boy up- bridal style- and sat at the head of the table.

Jisung was pliant, his head spinning with all the possible, hidden interpretations of his mother’s words. Sure, Jisung was  _ Jisung-  _ but, was he even a Han? Where had his surname originated? Was he just the product from some street rats? It had never really bothered him that he didn’t know his true lineage… until now. 

Her words made his stomach swirl with sickness.

If only there was a way for Jisung to purge his mind and body of everything that had happened in the last half hour.

“Take your time.” Minho’s head fell to Jisung’s shoulder and rested there.

Pulled in by the comforting connection, Jisung allowed his body to do whatever it wanted. He was utterly exhausted from performing. 

Minho let out a chirp of confusion as Jisung pulled away, far enough that the elder’s head dropped limply in unflattering perplexion.

A brief moment filled with hesitation and boundary-related consideration left Jisung whining. Another decision that he’d have to make. He was  _ tired _ of thinking.

As soon as Minho’s head lifted far enough, the boy burrowed into the opening and curled up tight- a hand clamping down on the opposite side of Minho’s neck to keep the elder in place. 

The pressure and heaviness of their combined relief was overwhelming and irresistible. They were bound- and two bodies living the same path of existence. Without conscious effort, their breathing and heart rates synched and they fell into a mutual state of tranquility.

If only their minds could do the same.

When Chan and Woojin came to take their shifts, they found Changbin reading in an empty cafe with Felix draped over his lap.

Moreso than usual, the tabby was agitatedly flicking his tail back and forth, gaze never leaving the front door. Changbin’s hand was heavily petting through his soulmate’s fur, the new tracks merging with old ones.

They found Minho in his favorite chair, unconscious, with Jisung tightly bundled against him. The human was definitely awake, a frown etched into his features. He still hadn’t changed out of his uniform, which couldn’t have been comfortable. And it didn’t seem like they’d eaten, either.

Chan was more than slightly worried about the situation that he and his soulmate had been left uninformed about. Normally, Minho and Jisung would’ve been at home, already. Jisung would be in one of his soulmate’s sweaters and they’d be decompressing over a shared meal. What had gone wrong?

While Woojin went to investigate what the cause of Anxious Felix was, Chan quietly made his way over next to the newer soulmates and knelt down.

A quick peek in his direction gave away Jisung’s awareness; though, the boy didn’t say anything, merely continued to play with the collar on Minho’s striped button down.

Time and patience were definitely Chan’s allies when it came to getting Jisung to open up. So… he nodded slowly and scooted back to the wall where he sat calmly, taking in the soft wind against the windows and the slight snoring from Minho… and the sniffing that was growing more prominent with each passing second.

Jisung abruptly detached from his soulmate as a harsh choking sound escaped from his throat. The panicked motions woke Minho with a start, his grip tightening and restricting Jisung’s movement before the boy could fully free himself.

Unfortunately, the majority of Jisung’s body weight had already been in motion, and they collapsed to the ground in an ungraceful heap. Right at Chan’s feet.

Minho’s larger form eclipsed Jisung’s almost entirely. He was so tense from preventing Jisung’s crushing that Chan easily manipulated the shifter’s body up and out of danger.

With a few grunts and impressive feats of strength, the blonde managed to manhandle both boys between his legs. Jisung was flush against Chan- legs spread in a wide V with a frazzled Minho curled up in the middle of them. The younger shifter quickly drifted back into unconsciousness, his head resting on Jisung’s thigh.

The human was still muffling his turmoil when Chan wrapped the discarded blazer around Jisung’s torso. Waiting for any signs of increased agitation, Chan loosely embraced Jisung, cringing as Jisung’s quiet hiccups shook all three bodies. 

Despite his haywire emotional state, Jisung subconsciously finally recognized the basic fulfillment of  _ safety  _ and relaxed slowly into the elder’s chest.

“...She came. And I’ll... never see her again.” His voice was raw, wrecked from the effort of keeping himself together. The admittance was shameful. What little family he had, had.. was… gone. Forever. 

All of the others had stories and experiences, both good and bad, to share. Jisung only held a few memories of a cold, holey tent and a sporadic, meager allowance. The best times had been when a woman who had called herself his mother sometimes came by and tucked him in… asked a few questions about his day… that was really it. Barely anything.

It was pathetic that such occasional displays of interest were what set his standards for all interactions. Maybe, he was no different than her- latching onto the first person that cared to know anything about him. They were one in the same. Blood relatives set for the same fate.

Chan hummed in acknowledgement and waited… allowing the combination of his and Minho’s presences to sink into Jisung’s body.

After Jisung’s hiccups subsided, Chan carefully asked: “do you want to see her again?”

“I…” the question made Jisung choke. He instantly knew his answer… but exposing it to the world felt.. Wrong. Inappropriate. Inhumanly. What he felt didn’t align with the…  _ right  _ answer.

Especially to Chan and Minho who had been without their own parents for so long.

“Don’t think about how we feel,” Chan reprimanded softly, “this is about you, Jisung.”

Still the words were trapped in his throat. A frustrated whimper came out, instead. 

Jisung focused on his hands, hoping the distraction would help settle his inner conflict. Minho’s hair was- as always- soft and slightly wavy. His breathing had already settled into a slow rise and fall. Jisung envied his ability to evade reality so easily. The ground must’ve hurt to sleep on; yet, he’d fallen back asleep in record time.

A hand cautiously found its way up to the back of Jisung’s neck, where Chan slowly massaged out the day’s tension. After a couple of minutes, Jisung fully succumbed, leaning the gentle touch with an appreciative as he continued to card his fingers aimlessly through Minho’s hair.

The Sun had fully set when Jisung spoke again. It had to have been at least an hour into Chan’s shift; but the blonde couldn’t find it in himself to care. Woojin was fully capable of handling the cafe on his own- especially at night.

Changbin and Felix, on the other hand, seemed to care quite a bit.

The pair quietly found their way back into the conference room, lowly cooing at the soulmates who were asleep and nearly asleep between Chan’s legs.

Sitting criss-cross on either side of Chan’s legs they continued their verbal adorations; laughing about how Minho was in the fetal position “like a little baby”, and at Jisung for dazedly looking at the newcomers as if he were still dreaming.

“I think it’s about time we go home, hyung. Our shift was done two hours ago. We all need some food and sleep… three of us have school tomorrow.” Hyung-mode Changbin was always a sight to see. It was incredibly obvious that he’d grown up with Woojin and Chan as most of his chiding remarks were reminiscent echoes of the eldest pair’s words. 

Felix nodded seriously, a mature posture taking over his tired body. Shifting twice in an afternoon probably hadn’t been the smartest idea. “Sooo… who wants to wake Minho-hyung up? Because I sure don’t.”

The question of who was going to get yelled at was circumvented by none other than Jisung. The small boy flopped forward languidly, his entire upper body surreptitiously splatting across his soulmate’s. 

Nuzzling into the softness, Jisung hummed happily. “Hyuuuuungggggg…. It’sss tiiiiime to goooo homeeee. Let’s goooooooooo~”

The elder groaned but rolled onto his back, snaking his arms up and around to trap Jisung in an anaconda-like hold.

“Leeeeeeet’s juuuussst~” He sang back, before deadpanning: “stay here. I’m tired.” The tone was dry and drunken, but Minho wasn’t fooling anyone. His ability to string together coherent words  _ and _ mock his soulmate gave away his increasingly conscious state.

Still, Jisung giggled and continued rubbing his cheek against Minho’s head in a gesture that would’ve come far more natural to him if he weren’t human.

The other’s in the room shared a knowing look, but said nothing.

With a heavy sigh, Minho acquiesced and pushed up into a sitting position. Jisung slid down, back to the ground, finding himself face to face with his bent-over twin.

“Jisungie, hiii~” The ginger threw in a wave as he batted his eyelashes playfully. Dark circles conflicted the energetic words.

“Hello, Lixie~” Jisung mimicked the boy back and soon enough they were playing an intense, silent game of mirroring. It would’ve all been fine and dandy if Felix didn’t manage to trick Jisung into smacking Minho  _ and _ Chan simultaneously over the head.

The unexpected shock was enough to break through the lethargic environment. 

Though Chan was still  _ very  _ much left out of the loop, he was glad that Jisung seemed to have recovered from whatever had happened previously. 

Minho carried Jisung’s backpack as Changbin and Felix carried their own, and the four set off home for the night with the twins in the center nonsensically arguing about the victor of their match.

Changbin didn’t seem to mind the commotion, too lost in the music that his headphones were blasting in one of his ears.

As they passed the first dark alley, Jisung’s body tensed and his eyes darted around for suspicious shapes. He managed to maintain his conversation steadily, while his body spiraled into blatant indicators of stress. His breathing picked up; tone rose; the poor boy even tripped over air, only to be steadied by Felix.

Within another block, Minho had enough of it. As subtly as possible, he threw an arm around Jisung’s shoulders and pulled him in. There was  _ absolutely _ no way that anyone could get to the boy now- surrounded by three different protectors, he was safe. 

They only had a couple more turns and then-  _ home. _

Seeing the lights on inside of the once-intimidating mansion was by far the most relaxing sight Jisung had seen in his life. The warmth radiating through the windows into the dark night was guiding him inside, like it’d always been his. As though his body knew no other place of rest.

Once they entered the property, Jisung broke free of the boys and ran up the steps.

The three watched on in awe as the human giggled and hastily threw himself at the large door.

Jisung found his body colliding with another, instead of thudding into an unforgiving surface. They stumbled into the house together, nearly falling- but managing to catch their balance at the last second.

“Woah, careful there, son.” There was  _ something _ about that endearment which ate at Jisung after the awful evening he’d had. Without meaning to, Jisung clung tight and buried his head into the chest of Mr. Kim. He was definitely thin; but his embrace wrapped around the younger with a timeless assurance.

Rather than push away the unfamiliar boy, Mr. Kim hummed and tightened his arms. The kids were always going through  _ so  _ much- there was no doubt that their new addition had the fortune to be any different.

The remaining members of the clan filed in quietly, each of them reaching out to pat Jisung’s head as they passed with various combinations of amusement and understanding.

Jisung loosened his grip once their footsteps retreated, not wanting to impose on the adult who was practically a stranger. Why had he done that, anyway? It’s not like Woojin’s da-

“You can come to me anytime, I hope you know that, Jisung.” The baritone was  _ so _ welcoming. No hint of malice or forced condolences were present. Everything about the man mirrored the sentiment- his eyes, the way his hands hadn’t dropped away, how he knew what to say and when.

If Jisung had a dad- he could only wish that he would be like Kim Seohyuk.

Instead of voicing the thought, though it was itching to jump out of his throat, Jisung smiled wide and nodded gratefully. 

“Anytime.”

The man grinned, as he gestured back towards the living room. “I think your friends are waiting.”

The boys were all on the ground and Felix had already transformed back into his cat form, energetically racing between Changbin and Minho’s hands as they halfheartedly tried to catch the tabby’s tail. Felix was having the time of his life, jumping all around and ricocheting off of the boy’s bodies as they cussed and openly praised his agility.

Mr. Kim cleared his throat and the commotion immediately halted.

Placing his hands on Jisung’s shoulders, Mr. Kim looked each of them in the eyes before passing on his message: “Woojin would like you all to know that there is a pot of soup on the stove, still. It just needs to be heated up- and there’s rice in the fridge. If any of you need me,  _ for anything _ , I’ll be in my office for a couple more hours.” With a final, emphatic glance at Jisung, he patted the boy’s shoulders and retreated upstairs.

Jisung was left standing awkwardly in the archway wringing his hands. Really, there was only one option here: “I- uh… I’ll go get our bowls. For dinner. With the soup.  _ Yeah _ . The kitchen- that’s where I’ll be.” 

His ramblings were met with blank stares. Even Felix had sat down to watch the scene unfold, his tail swishing lazily against Changbin’s leg.

Jisung’s face was quickly flushing under the silent, unwavering attention; wanting to hide when no one replied. Was it wrong to assume he’d be allowed into the kitchen? Did he overstep? Jisung knew that he’d been a breathing disaster last time he attempted to bake with Minho; but, he wasn’t a complete idiot. 

Reheating soup was easy. Jisung could do easy. 

_ No-  _ he  _ needed _ to do it.

“Do you want help?” Of course, Minho thought he was a bumbling, incapable fool.

Rather than let the childish, defensive words bloom into a harsh reality, Jisung just shook his head with a hard pout. His soulmate frowned in return.  _ Does he really think I can’t reheat a pot without ruining everything? _

Felix took advantage of the elder shifter’s distracted state and launched his furry body right into Minho’s lap with a low growl. His orange fur was puffed up, as though there were something he was about to attack.

Changbin spoke next, intrigued, eyes never leaving his soulmate’s unusual aggressive behavior: “if you can’t find anything or just want some company, we’ll be here.”

The pout on the boy’s face was still heavily ingrained as he shuffled away, mumbling petulantly, “I can cook soup, myself. I’m not useless.”

His newfound, solitary efforts were undeniably the product of thoughts that had been brewing for a while, only to be exacerbated by that awful woman. The words bounced around as he gathered the appropriate supplies. The bowls were an annoying problem-  _ who puts  _ bowls  _ on the top shelf!? _ \- but, Jisung made due on his own with his superb climbing skills. He could do this much, at least

Jisung hadn’t really been  _ doing  _ anything…. except school- not that he’d been attending that very much recently, either.

Minho had offered him a job weeks ago and Jisung had yet to actually fulfill his agreement. The short training he’d done with Felix was far from adequate if he was ever going to work independently.

Sure, they hadn’t known they were soulmates at the time; but, a deal’s a deal. 

Jisung planned to keep his promises.

He was tired of being bullied by his own thoughts- and through the words of others. Regardless of his upbringing, Jisung knew what he wanted and what he didn’t; his boundaries as an average human being and wishes as a man. All of which only continued to bother him more as he was gifted and pampered by the clan, who- at some point- had slid into the hole in his heart labeled ‘family’.

The soup revived Jisung’s appetite with a delicious smell, as it began to simmer- the color an intense red.

Jisung rifled through each of the cabinets for proper food for Felix, cheering silently when he found a stash towards the bottom of the large, walk-in pantry. He picked some fancy duck mixture and served it up for his twin, still not understanding how he could find such… brown mess to be appetizing. Thankfully, the soup’s aroma was strong enough that the duck was barely noticeable as it warmed in the microwave.

His thoughts drifted with the simple processes… he may have found out how she’d gotten his ‘address’, but there was a lot about the meeting that bothered him. Starting from her cheap but new clothing and ending around her blind rage.

Honestly, Jisung hadn’t meant to…  _ abandon  _ her.

Hadn’t she left him first, though? All of those cold nights and brief, caring words that now resounded heartlessly in his brain as if they were read directly out of a book. Were all those small fragments of hope and reassurance just to placate him? Keep him tied down and stationary so that she could control him? 

It hurt to think of his mother as an enemy… but she certainly hadn’t reacted in a friendly manner earlier.

Nothing she had done for him… none of it felt genuine. Her existence in his memory was patchy and vacant. He had more impressionable memories of his first teachers and passersby at the park than he did of his own mother.

Strangely enough, Jisung’s heart didn’t ache with the realization. How could it? The need had been filled before Jisung had even known it existed.

Once the soup started boiling slowly, he flicked the stove off and began to serve up the remnants into the awaiting dishes. Two of the portions were heaping while the third was smaller- a conscious decision by Jisung to properly feed his hyungs before himself. His stomach was too twisted from the residual emotions of the day. All the whispers and yelling… the not-so-subtle stares.. everything compounded overwhelmingly as his menial task drew to a close. 

Jisung had to focus more than usual to not drop any of the food as he re-entered the living room.

The scene was nearly unchanged; though now the two humans seemed to be far more energetic than the tabby.

Carefully shuffling over to the coffee table, Jisung arranged the utensils and bowls, placing Felix’s on the ground close to the side where he figured Changbin would sit.

And, indeed, the moment the dishes were heard hitting the table, all play ceased and hungry eyes were staring, delighted, in Jisung’s direction. He was happy to have been of use.

Looking down at Felix, who was twisting around his ankles, Jisung chuckled airily and bent down to pet the cat. “I didn’t know what you wanted, exactly, so I picked the worst sounding one.” 

Felix nipped at Jisung’s hand, brattily whapping his leg with the tip of his tail before sauntering towards the bowl. Body pressed to the ground, ears back, Felix took a short, suspicious sniff.

And promptly pounced on it with a loud screech.

Not knowing how to take in the reaction, Jisung looked up at Changbin, eyes wide with panic.

Jisung had really only been kidding about picking the worst one. Wasn’t duck what the rich elitists ate? If Felix went hungry because of him...

The other human seemed strangely relaxed as he took in the sight.

“What  _ exactly  _ did you pick out?” Before Felix could begin attacking the bowl, Changbin scooped his soulmate up and chided him under his breath: “ _ Stop _ . You know better.” The cat chirped dejectedly in response, going completely limp at the true statement.

When Changbin put Felix back down, the cat didn’t move- simply flopped to his stomach with his nose pressed directly to the edge of the dish.

“Duck?” Jisung’s voice cracked as he sat down, entirely distressed due to the sudden change in Felix’s demeanor. Had  _ he _ caused his twin to be so restrained? Was it Jisung’s fault that Felix was in trouble? And-  _ why? _

A light hand on his head made Jisung jump.

Turning to his right, he found Minho grinning widely, affectionately petting down the back of Jisung's head. “Oh~  _ good  _ choice, Sunshine~ you did well. That’s Felix’s favorite.”

The adoring praise had Jisung ducking his head, foriegn emotions flooding his body and inevitably shining through his elated expression. “ _ Oh. _ ”  _ I’m glad. _

“Now, let’s eat, shall we?” Minho clapped and dug in, taking a hearty spoonful into his mouth. He swallowed with a happy exhale and looked around happily, “it’s really good. Chan did it, again.”

“But, Mr. Kim said-”  _ that Woojin cooked? _

“Channie-hyung does most of the cooking, honestly. Even if Woojinnie-hyung helps him out- Channie’s the real mastermind,” Changbin explained as he brought a slice of meat to his mouth.

Impatient, Felix whined and pawed insistently at Jisung’s lap. It started out light; but within seconds, the claws came out.

He looked down in confusion- why wasn’t Felix eating? Did he want to save it for later? They said it was his favorite, though, right? Should Jisung go and put it in the fridge? Can you even do that to heated cat food?

“He’s waiting for you, Jisung. He’s the youngest here, so he’ll start eating after you do.”

“Huh?” Minho’s casual statement dumbfounded Jisung. They were all close friends, so why did age matter? It’s not like they were in some formal setting, either.

Again, Changbin took mercy and expounded: “it’s a clan thing. We’ve been ignoring it a bit recently. As everyone gets settled in, I’m sure the protocols will come back, as usual. Don’t worry about messing up, they’re all confusing at first- it’ll become second nature after a while.”

“Oh… okay… I guess. Sorry for making you wait, Lix.” His twin warbled in anticipation, staring intently as Jisung  _ finally _ brought the soup to his mouth.

It was as good as it smelled. His hyungs were right. Jisung really needed to ask Chan for some pointers, someday.

The moment Jisung’s spoon dropped back into his bowl, Felix tore into the duck with an energetic fervor. All three boys laughed at the sight and slowly the stress of the day fell away as their stomachs filled with a great meal.

That night, they all agreed to sleep together, in the living room.

Jisung had somewhat grown used to sleeping and relaxing with other people present; though he wasn’t quite ready to submit himself to a cuddle pile on the ground yet; so, he and Changbin agreed to take to the couches.

Setting up both couches took no time at all. Eager, Jisung bound up to his own room and took his  _ own _ , dark green comforter and pillows. Everything still smelled strongly of Minho- and Jisung found himself giggling into the pile as he returned to  _ his _ couch and set up. He’d never had the luxury of his own bedding and the sleepover felt like a small exhibition of what was his. Possessive pride flowed as Jisung set the area up  _ perfectly. _

Before they’d broken off to grab their necessities, Minho had pulled Jisung to the side and asked, wholly and needlessly embarrassed, if Jisung minded him shifting. In rushed words he’d revealed that he was getting uncomfortable; his tail was  _ itching  _ for a stretch; and that it would make sleeping on a couch together far easier if he was smaller.

The excessive explanation was nice- but Jisung already knew his response the moment the question had been proposed. “Hyung. If you want to shift, that’s up to you. You don’t need to ask me. It’s your body. I want you to be comfortable, too.”

Changbin(and Felix?)’s baby blue set was hanging off their other couch, both parties stretched out underneath, when Minho returned. Just as he always slept on Jisung, Felix was spayed out across Changbin’s chest, head tucked right into the crook of the human’s neck. 

A faint sound- rolling, sleepy purrs- drifted from their direction. 

Changbin was completely absorbed in finding something ‘good’ to watch while Jisung cheesily thought that he had already found the  _ best _ thing. It was always so odd- the first moments of taking in Minho’s transformations. In his human form, he was confident sass mixed with stable warmth. And as a cat… Minho was inarguably the most elegant (sorry, Cloud!Chan!) and graceful feline Jisung had ever seen.

Though their time spent apart had felt like misery on the rocks, Jisung was  _ thrilled  _ to notice that he hadn’t felt a trace of aching loss when he went to retrieve his bedding.  _ It’s the small things that matter. _

Their eyes met and Minho bounded the last few steps into Jisung’s legs, rolling over and batting his paws up at his soulmate with a gleeful tint in his eyes.

“Wah~ hyung’s already  _ that  _ far gone, huh?” Changbin snickered, finally setting the remote down as he found reality  _ far _ more interesting than the melodrama he’d left on the screen.

Minho willfully ignored the comment, wriggling around playfully until Jisung took the hint and reached down to pet him properly.

The cat’s tail twisted around Jisung’s forearm with an obscenely sensual speed, leaving goosebumps to run through the poor, shocked boy’s entire body.

Rather than let the mischief continue-  _ in the presence of others _ , no less- Jisung scooped Minho up and dramatically flopped back, into his (their?) couch. His soulmate seemed miffed at having his ministrations interrupted, tail unwinding only to thump Jisung steadily in the chest, ears flicking around randomly.

Jisung let his hands sift through the silken fur, short strokes mixed with long, until he was able to feel Minho completely relax and rumble softly.

Exhaustion was looming for all four.

It was a short while later, after Jisung had settled onto his back with Minho wrapped around his head, that Changbin broke the silence:

“Don’t worry about what that woman said. It doesn’t change your place within the clan-  _ no one _ is going to think differently about you because of your parental situation.”

“Thanks, hyung.”

Changbin fell asleep almost immediately after his thoughts were stated, his powerful snoring easily burying the infomercials that were plaguing the television.

Jisung didn’t mind.

There were too many things swirling around in his head for him to take notice of the outside world.

Pulling out Felix’s phone, which he’d carefully sat at the base of the couch, Jisung sent out a message that helped to settle the last of his nerves before he fell asleep:

** _To: Big Bro Chris_ **

** _Hyung, can we talk when you get back in the morning? It’s important._ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anything is wonky, blame the excessively long edit I did on this chap.  
°˖✧◝(⁰▿⁰)◜✧˖°


	45. [44] The Ji's knees

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a bit!  
This chapter, admittedly, REALLY FUCKING SUCKED TO WRITE AND EDIT.  
Also, hope you're ready to jump off the drama cliff with me. If not, weeelll........... oh well.  
[Note/Edit: I know there's an inconsistency in this chapter. It's not important to the story line. It'll be fixed in the finally edit. Obviously, despite attempts not every aspect is perfect in a first draft.]
> 
> °˖✧◝(⁰▿⁰)◜✧˖°  
[stanphobia]

** _To: Big Bro Chris_ **

** _Hyung, can we talk when you get back in the morning? It’s important._ **

  
  


When Jisung woke, he was alone. Face down on the couch, wrapped in his- now favorite- blankets, it was as if he’d built his own personal cave. A place to hide from the world, _ just for a bit _.

But- there was undeniably _ something _ missing. Or, rather, _ someone _. The additional heat was long gone, unforgivingly replaced by the nagging existence of an ache he’d grown to be all-too-familiar with in recent days.

In the background, clinks of cutlery and sparse conversation resounded. Light tenor tones intertwined and left everything in an indistinguishable mash that Jisung was far too tired to bother separating.

The weather- quite unfortunately- matched his mood; gray skies peeking through half-drawn curtains.

Groaning, Jisung turned and smashed his face back into his pillow. At least _ it _was warm, still.

The day was just going to be another boring one he had to spend at school. Bored out of his mind, learning in the most draining of ways, while trying to blend into the dull hum of the environment so there was no unnecessary attention drawn to him. 

The competition had created a subtle air of desperation and primal greed that saturated the town with an off-putting miasma. As the Saturday drew closer, Jisung’s nerves were growing restless. Just a couple more days until he and Minho could exist in harmonic peace- freed from wandering threats. Just three more days and Minho would be _ his _ . _ For good. _

Despite his seemingly endless anticipation, Jisung couldn’t even begin to fathom the changes that were going to take place. So much had _ already _happened and the reappearance of his mother the day before had driven it all home.

_ Home _…

Maybe Jisung had finally found it.

A weight dropped onto Jisung’s lower-back, startling the poor human and forcing his breath out with a sharp _ huff _. Displeasure-fueled vengefulness tore through Jisung while he flung an arm back to admonish whichever feline thought it was funny to disturb his rest.

The creature was too heavy and wide to be Minho; the unfamiliar way that the cat had completely sprawled out left Jisung confused and disgruntled. It didn’t take him long- mere seconds- to lose interest and relax back into his fluffy bedding.

Just when Jisung thought that everything was peaceful again and his mind was warm enough to drift back towards unconsciousness, a piercing yowl tore through the wretched cat. Not only did it reverberate through his entire back- it also nearly shattered his eardrums. Stunned in a painful daze, Jisung stiffened.

Fast footsteps approaching, halting right on the other side of the couch’s arm where Jisung’s head was propped.

Jisung moaned, hoping the person would understand his plea to get rid of the awful cat. _ Which of his clanmates had he pissed off enough to deserve _this? Head throbbing, he pushed deeper into his pillow.

A jostling thump and a petulant whine rose from his back.

A few seconds of rustling passed and the cat continued crying for attention. 

His potential savior’s voice was soft, close enough that Jisung’s hair shifted with the words:

“Sungie~ good morning.” Careful fingers sifted through his hair- not helping extinguish his will to become one with the couch in the slightest. “You’ve got about an hour until Innie is here. I’m sorry that Woojinnie is being an ass this morning. He’s been a little off all night. But, he missed you! We both did.”

Agreeing with his soulmate’s statement- Woojin began fidgeting in addition to his rumbles, paws kneading into Jisung’s back through the blanket.

“How about you get up, hmm? We can talk whenever you’re ready- I haven’t forgotten.”

Jisung hummed in acceptance; internally glad that he wasn’t being forced to string cohesive words together so early in the day.

As Chan stood, he coaxed Woojin away- the promise of breakfast too strong for even the bratty eldest to resist.

A brief thought towards the other clan members passed through Jisung’s mind as he pulled himself upright: Changbin and Felix’s blankets were gone. Somehow, Jisung hadn’t even noticed when they’d left. It made him kind of sad that they’d left for their shift without saying good bye. Whether the pair had been considerate of his sleep, or not, Jisung’s knowledge of harsh, hunter-related dangers made him want to seek out reassuring comforts.

Glaringly missing was Minho- dear, precious, fluffy Minho. Where had his soulmate gone off to- without even telling him? No note, or anything. The last memory he had of Minho- cuddled up and nuzzling into his jaw as they fell asleep- was absolutely wonderful; but, not the one he wanted to be their last. 

Dark thoughts swirled with the tundra in his body, creating a barren desert for his negativity to echo in.

Jisung entered the kitchen with a frown. The atmosphere was warm, he figured; as the amicable conversation flowed between the two occupants. It did nothing to soothe the goosebumps which raged across his entire body.

Dragging himself across the floor, Jisung made it to the island and flopped his upper body across the counter-top with less than graceful carelessness. On the nearest stool, Chan shifted to accommodate the newest presence, dropping his arm across the younger’s shoulder blades to slowly twist his fingers through the back of Jisung’s hair.

Under Dr. Kim’s attentive eye, their food continued to cook on the stove.

“Good morning, Jisung. I’m glad you’ve decided to join us.” The light-hearted gentility in Dr. Kim’s voice did little to soothe the shame that was flooding Jisung’s system. 

How was Jisung supposed to survive if a few missing words impacted him to this extent? They hadn’t even talked about the need for such things- so it was no one’s fault but his own that he felt so shitty.

Straightening up in a dizzying flash- Chan’s hand loosely grasping at his neck- just to drop into a bow too-deep to be casual, Jisung hurriedly choked out: “g- good morning to you, t-too, doctor.”

It was too early for talking.

Too much was going on his head to properly interact with the outside world.

His ears were a brilliant red, the hue matching his cheeks as Chan gently coaxed him back up.

Both elder’s laughed, at Jisung’s expense- of course, quickly joined by Woojin’s chortles as he wound his way around Jisung’s ankles. The human couldn’t bring himself to open his eyes, too ashamed to have been so.. _ whatever that had been _.. in the presence of an Adult.

“It’s okay, Sungie. You’re fine. No one’s upset~ you’re so cute. Even more so in the morning. How could we _ ever _be mad at youuu?” The stream of embarrassing, pacifying compliments which flowed from Chan went unhindered as his hand dropped to run up and down the expanse Jisung’s back.

The physical reassurance blended with the words and soon enough, Jisung mustered the courage to crack his eyes open. Relaxing at the sight of Dr. Kim slowly stirring the pan of food, a warm smile on the man’s face, Jisung finally collapsed back onto the island.

He _ still _ wasn’t used to sharing his mornings. The presence of others when he was disorientated and not fully himself was nothing short of appalling. Especially, when their relationships were all so _ new; _much too close to that ‘first impressions’ stage for his personal comfort.

“The food’s almost done, why don’t you boys set the table?”

Chan hopped into action immediately, retracting his hand and hopping over to the cabinets, easily taking the proper dishes and silverware out. With an encouraging wave, Jisung was beckoned over and handed the plates.

Overly attentive to the fragile nature of the plates, Jisung walked to the dining room. 

And promptly lost any control over the meager calm he’d managed to consolidate.

The table had space for _ nine _.

Not _ ten _.

Where was he supposed to place Dr. Kim’s food?

Jisung was mortified that he hadn’t thought to ask beforehand. How could he be so inconsiderate? He _ knew _ the table was meant for nine. Was it a big deal where they sat? What if he set the wrong area up and violated one of the clan’s unmentioned rules? They’d already done so much by taking him in- he didn’t want to fuck up something so _ incredibly _simple.

When a hand (lightly) landed on his shoulder- it was the last straw. Everything was too much; the weight of his humiliation; the pressure of not wanting to be incorrect; the shock of being approached unawares. Jisung fumbled with the plates, creating a terrifyingly beautiful melody that echoed through his bones, as they fell.

As if his entire mental state fractured with each new crack, Jisung collapsed.

Chan-thankfully- responded quickly: yelping as he placed the remaining dishes onto the table. Hands hooked underneath the younger’s arms, Chan yanked him backwards, away from the mess.

Hurried steps- that oversensitive Jisung could _ definitely _ hear, this time- entered the space, only to freeze in the entryway before retreating in the same, clamorous manner.

Crouching at his back, Chan wrapped his arms around Jisung. With his forehead pressed between the boy’s shoulder blades, it wasn’t hard to tell that he was shaking; trembling violently as if he was experiencing his own, personal blizzard.

No words passed between them. 

What could they even say?

Dr. Kim came back with a dustpan and small broom, wordlessly cleaning up the disaster that he hadn’t even made.

Jisung couldn’t dare to face him.

Eyes down, fixated on the shards which were embedded into his legs, he watched as small spots of red slowly appeared through his pants. 

There wasn’t _ that _much- he couldn’t even feel the pain, honestly. Yet, it was beautifully cathartic; as if he’d punished himself appropriately for what he’d done. Swiftly, without any second thoughts.

Once he gathered the final shards into the pan, Dr. Kim glanced over at Jisung. Carefully articulate, the man kept his voice low and light; a voice that would be fitting for a frightened child: “It’s alright, Jisung. No one liked those plates, anyway. We’ve been _ long _overdue for a new set- so don’t feel bad about it, okay? It was just an accident. If you want, we can go pick out a new set together this weekend. Don’t let yourself feel bad.”

_ Easier said than done. _

The elder eventually sighed and shifted, leaning their bodies forward so that he could reach around to brush away shards that were embedded Jisung’s legs. The heat emanating from Chan’s body as he pressed Jisung smaller created a warm blanket of safety that the boy let himself drown in. When the pressure was gone, Jisung remained compacted.

Woojin crawled up with a soft whine, only stopping once his body was pressed tightly against Jisung’s leg. Impatient, the cat’s tail flicked against the ground.

Feeling his eyes water with the overwhelming emotions of yesterday, the week, and the last couple minutes- Jisung leaned back into Chan and brought his legs up. The small cuts twinged in protest but he paid them no mind.

_ What a way to start the day. _

Thoughts of how ill-fitting his existence was were rampant, causing Jisung to shrink further. Conscious of the injuries, Chan slid his arms around the younger and did his best to hold him together. Cheek pressed against the crown of Jisung’s head, he rocked them with a slow rhythm.

“Why are you so jumpy this morning, hm? Is it because of what you wanted to talk to me about?” When there was no response, Chan shimmied slightly. “Do you want Woojin to leave? We can get it over with now, if you want.”

At the notion of inconveniencing anyone further, Jisung cringed.

Spoken into his knees, Jisung’s words were muffled as he mumbled, “It doesn’t matter anymore. It’s fine.” Obviously, nothing was fine and _ something _mattered so much that he was being deeply affected by it. How was Jisung supposed to bring it up when it would, undoubtedly, cause more work for everyone else?

Displeased with the answer, Woojin growled.

Jisung let out a strained noise in return, wriggling until he could turn perpendicular and curl up further against Chan’s body. Facing away from the threatening cat, Jisung all but shoved his face into Chan’s neck as he did his best to regain control over his senses. 

Chan hushed his soulmate with a soft nudge. Rather than rejecting the more intimate position, the elder hummed and brought a hand up to rub at the boy’s nape. Luckily, the gesture seemed to work amazingly well- Jisung was coaxed into a more relaxed state within seconds.

Woojin’s rumbling faded into silence as the cat nosed his way beneath Jisung’s legs. He _ refused _to be disconnected from the situation just because he was in his feline form.

The sudden intrusion had Jisung pulling back, flinching against Chan’s chest.

“Oh Sungie~” the elder cooed, “it’s just Woojinnie. He’s worried.”

The invasion of the human’s personal space continued: the gray cat squirming through a small gap he created to claw his way upwards. Nuzzling against the edge of Jisung’s chin, Woojin settled down. At the success of his completed conquest, the eldest purred happily. 

The aggressive show of affection, paired with the unwavering concern, had Jisung trapped. He _ knew _ the soulmates were just trying to console him- but… something in his brain was fighting back against them. He didn’t deserve their efforts.

Yet, there was no way out of the situation that wouldn’t result in offense. _ That _ \- would be absolutely unacceptable. He couldn’t cause _ any _ of the clan more issues. _ Especially _, not on purpose. 

Jisung sighed and sank back. His muscles hurt from the tense way he’d been sitting and protested as he went relaxed, legs flopping out to lay against Chan’s.

Woojin slid down as the human rearranged, but didn’t stop in his ministrations- he shuffled up until he was completely sitting on Jisung’s abdomen. The shifting pressure had Jisung’s stomach growling, as if it had been reminded about it’s initial plans.

Hooking his head over the younger’s shoulder, Chan petted his soulmate’s flank. “Do you think you can eat some food? Or, rather, I’d like it if you would eat- even if you don’t feel like it.”

Empty minded and eager to please, to erase the disaster he just caused, Jisung nodded. The action had him rubbing back against Woojin’s fur, earning a chirp from the eldest.

Pleased at the positive response, Chan hummed against Jisung’s ear and mimicked the gesture.

“Okay. How about we set the table together, this time?” Though it was phrased as a question, the elder left no room for argument as he sat Woojin on the ground and manhandled Jisung so that he was standing.

The human wobbled, legs weak; but Chan was right there, easily steadying him. Hands on the human’s shoulders, Chan guided him back into the kitchen. 

Dr. Kim had already gathered a second set of dishes out and served the food- some green, sort-of-rice soup. The man was leaning over the adjacent counter, ladling leftovers into storage containers as he whistled a soft tune.

Sensing Jisung’s reluctance, Chan stepped forward and leaned across to slide three bowls across the counter towards them. Picking one up, he held it out to Jisung.

When the human didn’t respond- wary of inducing a repeated disaster- Chan reached out and brought both of the younger’s hands up to support the bowl.

“It’s okay, Sungie. Just a bowl. You won’t drop it. It was an _ accident _. Believe in yourself.”

Conflicting emotions swirling, the younger nodded with a tight frown.

He waited for Chan to grab the other two before following him back to the dining room.

Routine embedded from nearly two decades of practice, Chan drifted to his seat where he placed his bowl with a soft _ thud _.

Intently watching where the third bowl was going to be placed, Jisung was frozen in the doorway. He hesitated long enough for Dr. Kim to walk up behind him- loudly clearing his throat as he approached.

Chan’s eyebrows scrunched, looking up at the doctor with slight confusion. “Dad, where do you want to sit? I know you usually-” the blonde cut himself off, biting his lip to prevent the words from slipping out.

Taking the new situation in stride, Kim Seohyuk slipped into the room and plopped in the spot next to where Chan had placed his dish.

“I don’t think my son will mind me borrowing his spot for a meal, _ now will he? _” An accusatory eyebrow was aimed at the cat who had leapt to his soulmate’s chair to avoid being crushed.

Woojin _ did _ seem like he minded, eyes narrowed at his loss; but not enough to cause a scene.

Chan grinned at the development, wiggling his hips as he spoke: “You can sit on my lap, Woojinnie! Come on~ don’t look at me like that.”

Not wanting to be questioned about his awkward pauses**,** Jisung robotically sidled over to his assigned chair and oh-so-carefully placed the food down. Not a single spec left the bowl as the momentum settled.

The four parties sat, Chan with one arm securing his soulmate, and silence fell.

Picking up his chopsticks first, Chan dug in. Half the bowl disappeared within mere seconds. Leaning back with an appreciative sigh, the blonde surfaced only when the food was completely gone.

“It’s _ so _good. I love your cooking.”

Dr. Kim smiled, eyes sparkling at the compliment. The expression brought out his youth in a way that showed his relation to Woojin. They had the same eyes _ and _ wrinkles. “I’m glad.” Attention turning to their newest addition, the doctor’s smile softened. “Jisung? Why don’t you try some? I hope it fits your palate.”

“I! Uh-” Outbursts on inarticulate thoughts sprang free, before Jisung’s mind could settle for appropriately seeking answers. Swallowing the knot in his throat, the human looked between the others, perplexed, “shouldn’t Dr. Kim eat first?” The question came out horribly accusatory, annoyance at his own ignorance suddenly fueling his rambling: “I mean- like _ last night… _ Changbin-hyung said that clans do things by age- so I just… just thought that… _ you _know..” Jisung trailed off, ashamed that he was unfamiliar to all the standards; while also outing Changbin for giving him information that was seemingly wrong.

Clearing his throat, again, Dr. Kim took the responsibility of explaining: “you’re on the right track, Jisung. There’s nothing wrong with asking when you aren’t sure. Never be afraid to question anything in this house. In traditional clans, what Changbin said is true: rights are by age. But, while I _ am _ the eldest resident of this house- Woojin is the current head of the clan. He took over the position, through direct succession, a couple of years ago. And Channie is his soulmate- so, he’s in a place higher than myself. It might be easier for you to think of me as ‘retired’. I help out when I can; but, it’s the active members which continue to make the clan thrive and expand.”

Mouth dropping into a loose ‘O’, Jisung looked down at his food. Really, why hadn’t he just asked? Their answers made everything so much less complicated- less intimidating. “You’re way older than me, though…” Eyes rising to meet Dr. Kim’s, Jisung backtracked hurriedly: “not in a bad way, I don’t mean it like that, just-”

The adult chuckled, no offense taken. “You’re a young, growing man. You need far more food than I do. Go ahead, Jisung.” The human flushed, not used to being addressed in such an adoring, direct way from someone of the doctor’s age. Grinning at the growing redness, Kim Seohyuk continued, “I promise, it’s not spicy. Channie told me you can’t tolerate heat, so I left the peppers out. It should be edible, at the _ very _least.”

Nodding, Jisung took a shaky bite of rice.

The soup _ was _delicious.

Much like Chan, his bowl emptied in the blink of an eye. Wiping the remains of liquid from his chin, Jisung fell into a dopey state of contentment as he expressed his thanks.

The other three smiled (well, Woojin as much as a cat possibly could), pleased with Jisung’s reaction.

It was at that point which Minho chose to make his grand entrance.

With a high screech, the black cat shot into the room and launched straight into Jisung’s lap.

He was incredibly lucky that the younger’s body seemed to react instinctively, turning and reaching to catch the feline midair before he even realized what was happening.

Upon closer inspection, Minho was a mess. A few leaves were stuck to his coat, which was dishevelled to begin with. And one of his front paws- which had landed onto Jisung’s poor, already filthy pants- was matted down with a suspicious brown substance. Minho could’ve passed as a stray alley cat if Jisung wasn’t hyper-aware of the glorious closure of their unmistakable bond.

And the _ smell _. 

No matter _ how much _ he wanted to rejoice at the reappearance of his soulmate- who was easily becoming his favorite person on Earth- Jisung was quickly becoming nauseous from the awful smell radiating from his feline.

His fur- which was usually sleek and lucious- looked _ and smelled _ like Minho had rolled through a restaurant's garbage can.

Much to his soulmate’s utter displeasure, Jisung held the cat out at arms length and nearly vomited as the smell wafted closer to his nose.

“Uh. _ Hello. _ Hyung. You smell….. Not-so-great. Where were you? Why….?”

“He was out,” Chan answered in Minho’s stead, “wandering for the competition. But, as always-” the blonde rolled his eyes- “he couldn’t resist rolling in _ dirt _.”

Indignant, Minho growled.

Thankfully, Jisung was full. Perks of foregoing breakfast- and most, other meals- for the majority of his life.

“I’m going to go take hyung upstairs… and… get rid of.. all this.”

“Be careful. He hates baths when he shifts.”

Driven by his task and comforted by the presence of his soulmate, Jisung smiled as he reiterated his thanks and excused himself to his room. Jisung cradled Minho against his chest the entire way- the dirt had already gotten _ all _over him when Minho had so graciously thrown himself at Jisung.

The stairs were unpleasant, pinpricks from the minor cuts pulsing up through his legs.

Talking to Minho made the pain dull.

“I hope you were…” Jisung’s cheeks flushed with the confession- “safe. The weather’s not great either- was it cold? Did you _ really _ play in a dumpster… or did you see any of the hunters? Did _ they _ see _ you? _ I had a weird dream last night...” As Jisung made it to his room, finding the door without a thought towards it, he opened the door and entered. “You were in it. We were at the park… it was.. _ nice _.”

Reminiscent of past escapades, Jisung pulled out one of his towels and created a small nest on his bathroom counter. Minho’s dirty fur was a stark contrast against the sterile, white fabric.

Stepping back, Jisung crossed his arms with a huff. “So- uh… how should we do this? Do you want to like- bathe? I could fill up the sink and-” the human shook his head, a frown on his face- “_ no _ . cats don’t like water… A sponge bath, maybe? You could sit in the sink?” When his occasional cheekiness showed it’s head, Jisung cracked a smirk. “ _ Or, _ you could shower with me? There’s more than enough room, after all.” The words died away as Jisung shrugged, bravado failing to maintain it’s strength.

Minho merely blinked.

Before Jisung could return the gesture, Minho leapt down and shot out of the bathroom- leaving behind his human, who could only stand there; dumbfounded.

Seconds of gruesome cracking and muffled grunts filled the silence before Minho, in all his gross glory, returned.

Leaves were stuck in his hair and it looked like he’d jumped into a pit of thick mud and liquid feces.

Smelled like it, too.

But- somehow, underneath all of the grime- he was still stupefyingly beautiful.

Face carefully contorted into a mask of calm, brazen reassurance- Minho smirked. Marching forward, he grabbed Jisung’s hand and dragged the boy behind him, clothes and all, towards the shower.

“‘There’s more than enough room, after all’, right? Let’s go~!”

Jisung couldn’t find it in himself to struggle- mind too concerned with sorting out his inner turmoil- to protest against Minho as he grabbed the younger’s hand and marched to the shower stall.

“At least! At least let me take off my socks!!” Because _ that _ was Jisung’s biggest concern when his soulmate was seconds away from dousing both of them in cold water whilst _ naked _.

Minho gave him a _ look _. One that said ‘shut up’ and yet, still held undertones of amusement.

The younger followed the silent demand with a pout, allowing himself to be manhandled into the corner of the shower- the one opposite the shower head.

He watched with wide eyes as Minho turned around, revealing his back which had a horrific amount of short, shallow cuts. Small paths of dried blood were layered, coated over with new redness as the transformation had reopened the nicks.

“You’ve got ten seconds before I turn the water on.”

Half the time passed, with Jisung merely staring at the artwork that his soulmate's back had become. It was sickening… but somehow.. entrancing.

“I suggest you take your _ socks _ off, _ ‘at least’ _, Jisung.” The teasing nature was obvious as Minho threw a raised eyebrow over his shoulder, hand positioned at the knob.

Without thinking, Jisung bent over awkwardly to follow the suggestion.

Only to discover that _ he wasn’t even wearing socks _.

Minho turned the water on before Jisung stood back up, the cold mist ricocheting off the elder’s chest to fill the air. As the water flowed over his body, the elder hissed. Unsurprisingly, very little of the mess washed off. Some chunks detached with heavy _ plunk _s; a stray leaf also fluttered down to swirl around the drain.

Without minding Jisung's presence, Minho reached for the nearest soap and cloth and began washing down his front. There were less scratches there and more of the dirt, so the work was less painful than what was to come.

And all Jisung did… was stand there and watch. The steam was heady, slowly erasing the terrible smells and replacing them with a light, floral scent. Minho hadn’t bothered to choose his own soaps, apparently. The change was different- _ wrong _ ; one that made Jisung want to tear the cloth away and restart the entire process. He associated Minho with _ cinnamon- _ a scent that was strong and _ warm _ \- not _ cherry blossom blast _ which was something Jisung would associate with an _ old lady. _

Hands awkwardly wrapped around his stomach, he leaned back- trying not to let his mind wander to terrible places. Discomfort and the yearning to right the situation- not that he even knew how it’d occurred, in the first place- battled within Jisung.

Within minutes, his shirt was uncomfortably damp from the spray; the bottom of his pants were soaked through. The air was heavy; but, predominantly quiet as the elder focused on his task.

The last straw of Jisung’s bearing fell apart when Minho attempted to bend over to clean his legs. The elder swayed and nearly face planted into the wall in front of him, dizzy and discombobulated from the heat of the water.

On instinct, Jisung lunged forward and caught his soulmate before the impact split his brains open. Pulling the shifter up and back, their bodies pressed together and Jisung sputtered from the stream that was now running directly into his face.

Minho was far heavier than he was and his lack of independent stability made it difficult for Jisung to maintain his stance. Groaning from the effort, Jisung slid an arm under Minho’s armpits to keep the elder upright as he reached forward to shut the water off.

“Sponge bath, it is.”

Half-conscious, Minho’s head lolled back. One of the leaves tickled Jisung’s nose and nearly made him sneeze before Jisung lost his patience, pulled it out, and threw it onto the ground- as if an inanimate object had somehow managed to seriously offend him.

Using his free arm to lean over and push the shower door open, Jisung huffed; the over-exertion was making even breathing difficult. He wasn’t athletic. Weight lifting and Han Jisung _ do. not. _ go together.

“Okay. To the tub we go. Come on, hyung. Youuu can dooo ittt. Let’s go~” With a hand at the elder’s waist, Jisung practically pulled him out of the stall and over to the ledge of the tub. The side was too thin for Minho to be propped up on it; so, Jisung manhandled him over and down. The moment the damaged skin of Minho’s back collided with the cold stone, the boy yelped and jerked forward.

“AH-! Careful!! Don’t hurt your back more, you big idiot-!” Jisung wrenched one of Minho’s arms over, with more strength than was necessary, to get him to lean against the side. Only- Minho’s body didn’t follow his arm. The limb twisted at an unnatural angle, leaving the elder’s torso still flopped awkwardly between his legs. Minho’s forehead was nearly touching the base of the bathtub. _ Damn his excessive flexibility. _

“‘m not an idiot.” Minho slurred, the words nearly lost as Jisung turned the water spigot.

Chuckling, Jisung shook his head. “Sure. Keep telling yourself that.” The light banter helped to relieve some of the stress that had been building since Minho’s eventful return.

The elder whined as the cold water hit his legs, though it didn’t take long until it faded into warmth- the water heater was already functioning from the attempted shower.

Thankful for the fluffy mat outside of the tub, Jisung took up a kneeling position and maneuvered Minho’s head against his shoulder. His legs protested the position, but his mind easily overpowered the small stabs of annoying pain. Minho’s skin was wrought with a conflicting pallor and flush, creating a doll-like complexion. He looked pretty- even in sickness.

Lathering up a face towel- with _cinnamon _scented soap- took more effort than he’d ever admit; but, trying to clean off Minho’s back was undeniably the worst. The cuts weren’t bad- _but, there were so many._ The water broke up what had already coagulated and it wasn’t long until the water of the tub had turned into a nauseating brown-pinkish color.

It took three refills of the tub for the water to remain clear.

After cleaning the dirt off of Minho’s legs, taking brief advantage of the natural ticklish nature of the shifter’s feet, Jisung draped the cloth over Minho’s knee and spun around. The movements were less than graceful due to his muscles being stiff.

At the loss of his soulmate’s attention, Minho hummed out a sad, questioning note. Rather than coming back to his senses, the cold bath seemed to have pushed him further towards unconsciousness.

“You can clean- _ yourself _ \- right? I mean- _ I’m _ not… I’m not going to do _ that _ for you, hyung. The faster you finish, the faster you can- we can go to bed.” He’d mustered enough mature responsibility to refrain from exploding at Minho’s persistent state of nakedness… there was _ no _ way- he wouldn’t be able to get _ that _ intimate. Not with another person. Nope. Noooot happening.

_ Though, _ Jisung attempted to reason with himself, _ if Minho-hyung really isn’t able to… I guess, I’ll have to? _ He could just close his eyes and guesstimate. It’s just another body, after all? They had the same parts. Medical professionals deal with _ far _ worse on a consistent basis. Just... another body, _ right? _

Not right. 

Minho wasn’t like _ any _person Jisung had ever met before.

Less than twenty minutes later, there was a knock at Jisung’s bedroom door.

Upon hearing the boy’ assent, Chan poked his head in.

“Mind if I come-” his words died before the full question was out, replaced by a high cooing sound. Thankfully, Chan was self-aware enough to quiet down as he whisper-yelled: “look at him! Oh, Min…. it’s fucked up that it takes a shredded back for you to look sooo... _ cute _.”

Next to where Jisung was sitting on his bed, Minho was sprawled out on his stomach. He had blacked out within seconds hitting the mattress. Minho’s face was squished against Jisung’s hip, snuggled into the warmth, an arm locked over his soulmate’s lap to keep him close. 

The shifter’s hair was still damp, making Jisung worried about possible illnesses _ on top of _ the cuts. His worry had silenced any objections to having his still-very-much-clothesless partner so near. Honestly, it had just pushed Jisung to be more meticulous when tucking the other underneath the sheets. Only the skin from ear upwards was visible on the elder.

“Is it okay if I come in?” Chan questioned, anxious bouncing barely keeping him from bursting into the room.

“Yeah, hyung, go ahead. Just- be quiet? _ Please? _ He just fell asleep.”

“Of course,” the elder nodded as he tip-toed dramatically to the side of the bed. 

Rather than encroach in what was essentially the pair’s nest, Chan sat on the ground against the frame, legs tucked underneath himself as he leaned back. Squeaking in surprise, Chan jerked forward, pulling two mini-sized water bottles out of his pant pockets. He offered one to Jisung and placed the other on the side table.

Minho’s soft snores mixed with the tinkling of the waterfall in the corner, creating a relaxed atmosphere that seemed like a sacred bubble considering the stressful outside-world’s circumstances.

Much to the human’s surprise, Chan was patient. Rather than pressing for details or reminding him that school was imminent and he needed to eat breakfast, the blonde was sitting quietly... and waiting. Jisung drank from the bottle awkwardly, hoping the liquid would somehow magically summon the right words to him.

It didn’t help. In the slightest.

But, after a while, the elder’s patience paid off.

It was Minho’s snuffling rearrangement that prompted Jisung to speak. Dropping a hand into his soulmate’s hair, for the sake of both their comfort, Jisung sighed heavily. Despite the influence of stress and the competition, he knew that his decision wouldn’t change in a minute, or in ten years. Jisung had found the place he wanted to be.

“Channie-hyung, why doesn’t Felix go to school with us? He should be a senior this year…” It was the best starter his brain could think of- a way to divert the attention away from himself.

“Lix used to attend a physical school- though it was only for a short time. It was an international school... because he couldn’t speak Korean very well. He hated it. There was a lot of stuff that went on- things that _ he _should tell you, not me- but, eventually he dropped out.”

Though he knew Chan was right, in that it was Felix’s story to tell, Jisung couldn’t stop himself from pressing the subject further: “that’s not _ allowed _though... is it? What if he wants to go to college later? How is he supposed to become employed? He hasn’t even graduated? Why-”

“What’s got you so interested in this, Sungie?” Chan’s interruption had shame and guilt blossoming within the human. His distraction had failed. It wasn’t right to ask- too selfish. _ Especially, _after all the effort that the clan had put into righting his situation.

In a tone so strained that the words sounded starved of life, Jisung whispered: “I don’t want to go to school. It’s awful. They all stare. Over half of my teachers don’t even know my name. The hunters are there. And my principal hates me. I hate _ it _ . I hate it _ so much _.” His tone raised into a whine, frantic words spilling out as he tried to convince the elder to understand just how terrible his experience had become at a place that had once been his only taste of salvation.

Chan looked up with a startled expression.

Witnessing the human’s misery for himself, Chan shuffled so that he could place a hand over Jisung’s thigh. 

The weight was welcomed, a hopeful sign that Chan hadn’t immediately discarded his wish. The circumstances were dire for Jisung. There weren’t enough words in the world to describe the rampaging anxiety he felt towards entering a brick prison when he knew he could be _ here _\- thriving with Minho and helping the clan to support the cafe.

His dream of pursuing music…. as much as it hurt to say… it could wait. His skill and knowledge weren’t going to disappear. And if he worked at the cafe, then Jisung would be able to buy his own equipment, eventually. He could be like Changbin and work on his compositions whenever- _ wherever- _ he found the inspiration to.

One day, his portfolio would be satisfactory and Jisung could submit it to a program of his choice. It might be later in his life than he had pictured… but, the relief from being away from his peers and the judgemental administration would undoubtedly work wonders on his psyche.

“Okay.”

Staring down, wide-eyed, Jisung stuttered out: “o- _ okay? _” 

Just like _ that? _

Was it really going to be that eas-

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I-” Chan tapped his hand on Jisung’s leg, reluctantly shaking his head with a slight frown on his face.

Jisung’s heart froze- unsure if he should rejoice or be filled with despair.

“I mean _ really _ sure, Jisung. Just because Felix did it, doesn’t mean you have to. You’re two different people with two different lives. I get that your time at school lately hasn’t exactly been… pleasant. But, this is a _ big _ decision.” The silence hung between them as Jisung’s shoulders caved inwards. What had initially sounded like agreement was quickly making him feel like a scolded toddler that had thrown a temper tantrum the moment things got difficult. Chan barreled on, set on sharing _ all _ of his thoughts before the younger could completely close him out, “if it’s the _ school _that’s the issue, we can see about getting you transferred elsewhere. It isn’t that late into the semester and I’m sure Hyunjin and Seungmin wouldn’t mind showing you around their school.”

Completely ignoring the fact that the two attended a _ private _ school- one that Jisung could never _ dream _of affording- the human shivered at the thought of attending the same institution as Hwang Hyunjin. They weren’t exactly on the best of terms and the shifter was nothing less than utterly unapproachable.

Not an option he wanted to consider any further.

The blonde let his words sink in for a couple minutes, keenly observing the obvious thoughts of rejection that flickered across Jisung’s face.

When the younger’s expression settled on pure revulsion, Chan offered another suggestion: “_ or, _we can see about changing your class schedule? If any of your classmates, or teachers, are bothering you- I’m sure we could rearrange your schedule to avoid them.”

Again, there was no sign that Jisung was even slightly interested in the idea.

Sighing, Chan rubbed a hand down his face. He tried- _ really tried- _ his best to keep his voice neutral: “we’ll have to look at your schedule, if you’re sure about dropping out. If it’s _ really _ the institution and not your academic success that’s the issue… we’ll help you. You’re clan now. And I don’t want to see you miserable.” Chan looked up at Jisung, only successfully making eye contact after a few seconds of tense silence. “All I’ll say is that I hope you’ve considered _ all _of your options and aren’t doing this because of us. Don’t let something you’ve been dragged into ruin your life, Jisung.”

At the bold statement, Jisung’s features twisted into annoyance.

“You guys haven’t ‘_ ruined _’ anything.” So many words collided in his brain that none found the way out. Yet, his urgency to destroy the thought that the clan had done anything other than save him overflowed without his consent:

“I just- I’ve _ never _ had a place I _ actually _ wanted to be in my life. Not once.” Honestly, Jisung was exactly where he wanted to be right at that moment. _ At Minho’s side. _ And if he was being extra- which seemed to be the theme of the day, anyway- Jisung might even conclude the statement with _ ‘in their bed’ _ . “I- I _ really… _it’s hard to explain. Neither of my parents were around.. much… I never had a day where I got to eat three meals before.

“_ Fuck. _ It’s crazy? Isn’t it? How much has changed? I was living in a tent. A fucking _ tent _ with a broken cot and cardboard floors. There wasn’t even a toilet. We used old water bottles or had to walk across to the convenience store. Do you know how bad plastic is at blocking rain? Mom said she was saving for a tarp. _ LAST _ summer. But... you didn’t _ see _ her, hyung. She had on fake fur and _ heels _. She left me behind for some- some sugar daddy and she wasn’t even sad about it. It’s awful.

“She was the only person I had and the _ only _reason I was so set on graduating. I thought my diploma would help me get a job and that I could dig us out of that hell hole. She didn’t… my own mother doesn’t care about me. Probably never did. If she was out sleeping around and making bank-” Jisung’s voice, which he’d been keeping straight through pure anger, slipped into a whine- “why didn’t she come b- back for me?”

At some point through the extensive monologue, Chan’s hand found Jisung’s. Clasped tightly together, the mutual sorrow was evident. Jisung shook harder with every word he spoke, misery consuming his senses further with each passing second.

Latching on tighter, Minho nuzzled into Jisung’s hip. His snoring had died away some time ago, concern and intrigue washing away the stubborn tendrils of exhaustion.

Having gone silent for too long, Jisung couldn’t find the energy to make his mouth work again. If Chan was set on making him go- as half of his legal guardianship- there was no way Jisung could refute. It’d just cause everyone more trouble.

He’d lost.

Head hanging so low that his chin hit his chest, Jisung exhaled shakily.

And then hiccuped, the sound coming out closer to a sob than an actual hiccup.

Jerking, Minho decided it was time to finally announce his consciousness. Leveling a glare at Chan- who was looking rightfully horrified at the result of his own actions- Minho let out a heavy sigh of his own.

“Hyung, why don’t you go help with… something not here?”_ I’ll take it from here. _ The self-confidence was too strong for a person who had seemingly just woken up.

With a small nod of acceptance, Chan squeezed Jisung’s hand once in apology before standing up and leaving. He offered a strained smile over his shoulder- that went unseen by the soulmates- as he softly shut the door.

Much to the younger’s dismay, Minho pulled himself up with a few, weary grunts until he was sitting perpendicular, legs thrown over Jisung’s with his hands settled in the middle- much like a distraught child. The lip that remained jutted out completed the image.

Minho was waiting.

However, unlike Chan, he was _ not _patient.

The subtle fidgeting- first in the fingers, then the feet, followed by the entirety of the elder’s body- was, at some point, going to forcefully shake the words out of Jisung. Or, drive him mad. Maybe, both. _ Probably _both.

Though Jisung was summoning every ounce of willpower _ not _ to look at his soulmate- to avoid the begging, kitten eyes and maintain the gates of his internal chaos- they both knew it was only a matter of time.

The addictive presence of their soulmates’ proximity made them practically intoxicated. Released all the inhibitions and preconceived notions of right and wrong and created a world for _ them _ . One where they could unapologetically just... _ be _.

Some mechanism inside of Jisung’s body relaxed under pressure of his soulmate’s undivided attention and the correction words aligned within Jisung’s head, at last:

“I don’t want to go to school anymore. It’s a waste of time and the people are _ awful _ . I always feel on edge- like I have to look over my shoulder or something bad will happen. The administrators all hate me- even though I have some of the highest grades in my class. _ And _ ... I hate being away from you. Not! It’s not just because of the bond. It’s- I- _ nothing _ feels right. Like someone ripped out one of my lungs and told me to go run a marathon. I _ could _ \- but _ why _? Why do I have to suffer? I always do. I don’t want it to hurt anymore...”

The entire time that he’d been talking, Jisung’s body had been slowly drifting closer to Minho’s, until his forehead collided with the elder’s shoulder. The cinnamon was intertwined with something natural… a scent that was delicate and subtle; yet, intoxicating.

Neither backed away from the increased proximity.

A few laborious seconds of shuffling passed before Minho had a hand settled into Jisung’s hair, fingertips meandering through the hairs which were probably longer than the younger intended to let them grow to be. _ Had he ever had a proper haircut? _The choppiness of the dirty blonde strands denied any sort of prior, proper treatment.

“If you don’t want to- none of us will make you. It’s your decision, Jisung.”

The relief of having his soulmate on his side alleviated a surprisingly vast amount of anxiety; suffocating emotions that Jisung hadn’t even noticed creeping into his mind evaporated more, with each soothing pass through his hair. Even if the eldest members of the clan disagreed with his plea- even if the _ administration _ fought against him- _ Minho _would stand with Jisung.

That, alone, was almost enough to extinguish his concerns. Jisung’s body relaxed; molded to fit against his soulmate’s side. 

Minho responded immediately by pulling Jisung in closer and nuzzling against the crown of his head.

“Why didn’t you tell us when you started thinking about these things?”

Jisung shrunk at the question. There was so much going on that he hadn’t even realized what _ his own _wishes were. He’d just had a bunch of negative feelings in disarray that dragged him into the undertow- disorienting Jisung and trapping him from understanding what he actually wanted. Everything around the clan had been happening so fast that it had been hard to find a moment to get a grasp on the source of his growing misery.

Jisung voiced such confusion with soft-spoken words; spoken into Minho’s collar as he was too ashamed to properly face the elder.

“I agree with Chan-hyung.” At the sudden betrayal, Jisung pulled away and frowned; his back ramrod straight. “Wait for me to finish,” Minho admonished, coaxing his soulmate back, a hand at human’s nape insistently tugging the boy closer until their previous position was fully resumed. “I’d like for you to look at all the options for a day- maybe, even a week. Wait and see if you still feel the same when you’re not in the same mindset. Whatever you chose, I’ll support you. Whether it’s staying in, getting out, graduating early, or testing out. _ Whatever _ you want to do- I’ll be here for you. Nothing changes between _ us _ , regardless of what you chose. _ Nothing _.”

Jisung wasn’t exactly thrilled at the idea of _ waiting _ . But, he understood. It wasn’t a decision he should rush and commit to out of desperate panic. That didn’t mean he wouldn’t gather all the information he needed- to support his idea _ and _ convince his hyungs- _ today. _

The sooner, the better.

“Okay,” he grumbled, not wanting to leave the comfort of his favorite place.

“Good.” The proud satisfaction radiating from the elder was poorly hidden underneath a note of condescension. Jisung scrunched his nose, weakly batting at Minho’s leg. “Now- you need to get ready. Innie is already here and you two are going to be late if you lollygag.”

Jisung leaned back, this time with an exasperated eyebrow raised. “_ Lollygag _? Really??”

“Really, really.” Minho mimicked the tone as he squeezed the back of his soulmate’s neck emphatically.

“Okay- just because of _ that _\- I’m getting up. I don’t want your geriatric habits infiltrating my life.” The boy made to get up, shoving unsuccessfully at Minho’s unfairly heavy legs. It only took a few seconds until he got tired and gave up, fixing the shifter with an unimpressed glare.

Triumphantly grasping Jisung’s hand- in a mocking, princess hold- Minho fixed him a disgustingly contorted smirk. Pressing a chaste kiss to the back of the younger’s hand, Minho whispered: “I’ll infiltrate more than just your life.”

Jisung gagged, rolling ungracefully out of the sheets with a deep, retching sound.

“Wait- _ Sunshine?!” _

The panicked screech of his pet name had Jisung freezing in his poor attempt to right himself. One hand on the ground to support his numb legs, created a very twister-like position for Jisung to stare questioningly up at his soulmate.

Minho was hung half-way off the bed, face pale and eyes wide. A trembling hand was pointed towards the human’s legs and for a moment Jisung thought he had managed to land in a trap and wasn’t able to feel it. Minho was looking at him like he’d lost his entire leg, or something equally gruesome.

Looking down his body- doing a mental inventory of his body parts as he went- Jisung’s mouth dropped. His pajama bottoms were full of watery, bloody splotches. It hadn’t looked so dramatic before Minho’s failed shower; but, the water had created an awful, bloody tye-dye. “Aaah. It’s not _ that _bad- I promi-”

The shifter scowled jumped off the bed, as if he hadn’t been injured recently, himself. Jisung was lifted off the ground with surprising ease and marched directly into the bathroom.

Despite the stomping, Minho sat his soulmate on the counter with extreme care before crouching down and rifling in the cabinets underneath the sink. All protests fell on deaf ears as the elder refused to accept the pleas, hyper-focused on the task at hand.

Submitting to the meticulous first-aid his soulmate insisted on, Jisung sighed and leaned back against the mirror.

When he finally made it downstairs, Jeongin was bantering with the eldest pair through a slice of fresh toast. The maknae’s energetic words died upon Jisung’s hurried entrance, already picking his backpack up and heading to the door. 

The abrupt end to whatever argument they’d been having left Chan huffing at the gall of the student: “kids these days. Amirite?”

If Chan was surprised at Jisung’s attire- given their earlier conversation- he didn’t let it show. Instead, he passed over a protein bar with an apologetic cringe. “You don’t have time to eat breakfast. I’m sorry.” Not like it was _ this _hyung’s fault. Jisung nodded in acknowledgement, anyway, not having a proper response to the comment. “We put more food in your lunch box to make up for it.” The box was slid across the table by a smiling, now-human Woojin.

Picking it up- the statement was verified. Jisung’s lunch weight was almost double what it was normally.

Sneaking up quietly, Minho (now dressed- at Jisung's insistence) caught sight of his soulmate’s awe and picked up the container to test the contents for himself. Sagely nodding was interrupted with light-hearted giggles- the parental nature of his clanmates too endearing not to appreciate. “Oof. They weren’t kidding, Sunshine. Better get off to school so you can eat sooner. I’m sure it’ll be worth it~!”

Jisung rolled his eyes at the antics. Maybe, the eldest pair had gone overboard after hearing his pity-speech. Regardless of their motives, he was grateful for their thoughtful acts. 

One day, Jisung would make it up to them. 

And the entire clan.

Due to Minho’s healing injury- which had only been worsened with the stunt he pulled lifting Jisung up- Woojin ended up being the one to walk the kids to school- much to his excitement. The recent shift had left the eldest slightly drowsy, making for the best of nonsensical comments throughout their journey.

Minho had assured his soulmate- as he helped right Jisung’s backpack straps- that he’d be the one to pick them up after. Possibly, fueled by selfish motives, as he really just wanted to experience the mutual, desperate struggle to relieve the bond’s strain, once again. 

They knew it would become increasingly worse throughout the day; but, the euphoria associated with re-connection- in both body and mind- _ almost _made the stress worthwhile. 

Regardless of how the day started, Jisung’s spirits were fairly high when he reached the parting point.

Even when he walked through the halls- dragging around a creepy sense of his _ every _ move being watched- the bounce in his step never quite disappeared. Jisung made it through his boring classes with minimal participation; reassured more than ever that school was absolutely _ not _the place that he wanted to spend his time in.

Of course, he couldn’t make it through even _ half _of a school week without the hunters making themselves known.

It wasn’t until he made it to his locker- during the passing period before lunch- that the sick games began. 

What was usually a plain, gray surface was extravagantly _ decorated _.

Streamers and sparkles. Spray paint and _ pictures _. Foul words and incriminating accusations were scrawled messily across the door.

And there were _ more _‘decorations’ that fell out when he actually managed to remove enough filth off of the lock to open it.

They’d found him-

**Minho.**

_ Them. **Together.**_

Half of the pictures were of him with the clan members, taken at various times of the day, across the past couple of weeks. Jisung’s stomach twisted when he recognized Woojin’s shirt- it was the one the eldest had worn _ that morning _.

A collection of green-tinted photos were settled at the boy’s feet. The sickness rose as a familiar face was caught in focus in the one at the top of the pile.

Jisung dropped to his knees.

_ Right there- _

In the uppermost photo-

Was _Hwang Hyunjin_.

More than ever, Jisung wanted to go _ home. _


	46. [45] What Remains?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So. It turns out concurrent full-time work and schooling is really tiring.
> 
> Warning for minor blood! Also, the story takes a pretty dark turn from here, FYI.
> 
> °˖✧◝(⁰▿⁰)◜✧˖°

Students swarmed the halls around Jisung, some muttering cuss words at the mess his locker had created- angry that their paths were obstructed by an explosion of rainbow glitter and obnoxiously thin streamers.

On any normal day, Jisung would join them in their annoyance.

But looking down at the picture of Hwang Hyunjin- his acquaintance that only acknowledged his existence for the mere sake of pleasing his fellow members- Jisung felt nothing but anguish.

Immediately, the issue felt personal. 

If it had been Minho in the picture, Jisung would’ve already lost his sanity. If it had been _ Minho _ locked in a too-small cage in the middle of a dark room- _ alone- _ Jisung wouldn’t have rested until his soulmate was found and well on the path of recovery.

_ Why was Jeongin so happy this morning?? How could he not care-? _ He knew the trio's bond was more flexible than the others’; but, how could they not _ constantly _ yearn for each other’s safety?- at the various least?

If Seungmin and Jeongin were willing to leave their soulmate behind- well... Maybe, they weren’t truly soulmates. Maybe, the bond being stretched three ways made it weaker. _ Maybe _, the entire concept was flawed.

Regardless, Jisung couldn’t just stand by with the knowledge that someone he knew was out there, clearly miserable and tortured. The way that tabby cat’s paws were stuck out of the cage- seemingly outstretched towards a metal bowl that was _ definitely _ too far out of reach- made his heart ache. Even if they had never gotten along, Jisung _ knew _ about Hyunjin’s appetite. The boy could hardly sit still whenever their shared meal times came around. He _ adored _ being served food by his boyfriends and always made sure to send his compliments to the chef(s). Never, even after their most petty of fights, would Jisung ever wish Hyunjin to be locked away and separated from his loves (to include his soulmates _ and _ food).

Save for a single tea light illuminating the cat’s ragged fur and the table the cage sat on, the room was completely black.

For once, Jisung was thankful that the shifter always spent so much time in his feline form. The black markings across Hyunjin’s fur were easily identifiable; even the particular shade of gold that flashed in the cat’s eyes screamed _ Hyunjin. _

Hurriedly stuffing all of his belongings into his backpack- pictures included- Jisung took off towards the cafeteria. Unbothered by the harsh words he received, the human shoved through the growing crowds of hungry students. Jisung was nearly hyperventilating in his panicked haste; yet, his mind was clear with startling precision.

There wasn’t a second to be wasted.

_ They don’t know. _ He refused to believe that sweet, adoring Jeongin would willingly let his soulmate be taken away. No excuse nor any apology could forgive his lack of attention towards his eldest soulmate. _ There’s no way that they know. _ Soulmates were meant to be. Tethered together for _ life _ . Partners who molded to each other and benefited from characteristics that they do not possess themselves. _ It’s impossible. _

With all his heart, Jisung kept a silent prayer for Hyunjin to stay safe and intact.

Throwing his bag onto their usual table, Jisung quickly rifled through the pictures.

Of course, there were more of Hyunjin. They were _ all _ of him. All taken in the same setting, at various angles, within a relatively short span of time. Hyunjin was always stuffed in that stifling cage, limbs hanging out between the bars at weird angles. The candle moved depending on the shot, highlighting areas that only made Jisung more sick as he shuffled through the images. 

The worst was at the bottom of the stack.

It was a bird’s eye perspective, looking directly down onto the cage where there were pools of liquid splattered around each of Hyunjin’s lax paws. On top of the cage were dark, finger-painted words accented by a circle of white roses and illuminated by that _ damn _candle.

** _HE’S NEXT._ **

Surprisingly vicious whims rose within Jisung. It helped him to focus- to tune out the passing comments and find the familiar black haired boy that had to know _ something _. 

There was _ no _ way that Jeongin was completely unaware of what had happened.

The sickening images of his _ own _ soulmate being in Hyunjin’s predicament fueled the murderous rage. If it came down to it: Jisung would go in solo. Ignoring how many houses surrounded the school; ignoring the disagreements he and Hyunjin always seemed to have; ignoring the inattentive nature of the poor boy’s own soulmates: Jisung couldn’t rest with the knowledge that his own clanmate was suffering.

“Yang Jeongin!” Jisung yelled as the younger sidled carelessly across the room. 

Jeongin jumped at the loud address, nearly dropping his lunch, eyes wide in momentary fright. Fumbling as he adjusted the box, Jeongin rushed over directly to Jisung and tilted his head curiously, eyebrows crinkled, unsure if he should vocalize his confusion in the face of his clanmate’s wrath. It was a motion that ‘Midnight’ often did when cowering in tight spaces, when the cat was afraid of coming out in the open. When Jeongin thought he was in trouble and was going to be _ punished _.

_ He’s clueless _ , Jisung realized. If Jeongin and Hyunjin had gotten into a fight- there would’ve been _ some _ sign that the maknae was upset. But, the previously good-natured whistling and twinkle in the youngest’s eyes gave away no such indications of stress.

The innocent shock made Jisung sag over the table- breathless.

How was he supposed to help Hyunjin if his own soulmate’s didn’t know? Was it even his place to step in? _ Jeongin’s _ so _ young, though. _ The boy didn’t deserve the trauma that was inevitably going to result from the experience, if the situation in the pictures was truly real. Jeongin didn’t deserve the pain of losing his soulmate, either.

And the obvious threat to _ Minho’s _ safety wasn’t something Jisung would take lightly- fake, or not. In no world would Jisung allow his own soulmate to be harmed while he was warned of the possible actions of their enemies.

The thought struck Jisung in a weird way.

_ Enemies. _

Just two weeks ago, not a single one of his classmates had known his name. No one had bothered asking him about his day, or why his uniform was wrinkly, or about his emotional state. No one had bothered with him enough to argue and turn their nose up at _ every _ suggestion that he could’ve ever possibly made.

Jisung huffed out a laugh, astounded at his own realizations. In the most twisted way, he had found a common ground with Hyunjin. Whether the taller boy knew or not- they _ finally _ had something they could agree on: the extinction of the hunters. The pointless hunting of the shifters- who wanted nothing more than to exist and appreciate the existence of their soulmates and clanmate’s successes- needed to be put to an end.

And the fact that they had targeted _ Hyunjin _, a shifter that was already mated and free from the condemning conditions of the competition, drove Jisung into a dizzying state of madness.

_ How dare they? _ The cockiness of the group was insane. _ What kind of savages go after high schoolers? _In the end, Hyunjin, Minho, and the rest of the active clan members were merely teenagers and young adults. What power did they have? What threat could they possibly pose to a group of mid-life, fully independent adults? They had to be delusional; too lost in their own misconstrued beliefs to recognize that the shifters were no different than any of humans they were surrounded by.

Jisung’s laughs faded into sickened, strained chuckles, his sanity fading away bit by bit as the gravity of the situation hit him in the midst of the bustling cafeteria. There were people staring, as they always did whenever someone was expressing less than neutral emotions. All the people ignorantly eating and enjoying their days, discussing the latest quizzes and tests, _ when Hyunjin is out there- somewhere- bleeding out on a table. _

He was _ really _going to lose it.

“_ What?! _ What is it?” Grabbing his clanmate by the shoulders, Jeongin attempted to shake Jisung back to reality. “Who-? Wh- what’s going on!?”

Rather harshly, Jisung pushed Jeongin away. He could apologize later. When Hyunjin was safe. His head was spinning with thoughts already, he didn’t need a concussion from an ignorant soulmate.

Jeongin stumbled slightly, but quickly regained his bearings and re-entered Jisung’s space with anxiety-filled fervor. “Hyung- _ please.” _

Mentally organizing his priorities, Jisung took in a deep breath and ran a hand through his hair. “When was the last time you saw Hyunjin. Not texted or talked to over the phone- physically _ saw _ him.”

“Yesterday aft- afterno- on?” The pitch of the response rose as questions bloomed in both party’s minds.

Hyunjin might not’ve even been in town, anymore. 

Nearly half a day had passed.

They were losing too much time.

Jisung sighed heavily and nodded. 

Immediately deciding on a plan, Jisung took to gathering Jeongin’s bag; stuffing the lunchbox carelessly into the bag and throwing it at the boy. Singing his own bag roughly over his shoulder, Jisung turned sharply and set off towards his destination.

Jeongin trailed directly behind the older as if they were tethered together, keeping within an arm's length and nearly tripping in his haste as he followed the elder out of the bustling cafeteria. “What about Seungmin? Did he leave with you?”

“Seungmin left before I did- his parents called him home early for dinner.” They passed through the main entrance, practically jogging their pace so fast. “We were all hanging out at the park- Seung wanted to run around. He hadn’t been ‘free’ in a while.. Jinnie’s parents were mad that he hadn’t gone home right after school- something about him missing a meeting. Hyung didn’t know what they were talking about, but he left before they came and got him. They’re scary. _ Really _ scary. Like, really uptight and overbearing. Always telling him what to do and when.” Jeongin was rambling, anxiety bursting through the short pauses he took to breathe. In a quieter tone that probably wasn’t meant to be heard, Jeongin whined out a low, “I hate them. Can’t stand them. Jinnie does too. I can’t wait until he moves out. They’re awful.”

Leaving the property, Jisung scoffed at the angered calls of various security guards; haughtily rolled his eyes and reached back to place a hand around Jeongin’s upper arm to urge him to move faster. Recollections could wait. Memories and conflictions could be pushed aside until Hyunjin was out of harm’s way.

It was mere minutes before they were bursting into the cafe; both pouring sweat and out of breath.

A few smartly dressed patrons were huddled in the corner, laptops and papers spread across the table between them. Aside from the four, the rest of the cafe was empty.

Changbin rushed around the counter from his post, hurriedly looking over the boys. When he found nothing of immediate concern he jabbed a thumb towards the kitchen. “Go. I’ll be right there. I have to get Felix so he can watch the counter.”

They did as ordered, pushing through the swinging doors with familiarity. 

Without explanation, Jisung swung his excessively heavy bag onto the nearest counter and dumped out the contents. He’d taken all of his books- practically the entire contents of the locker he had no intentions of ever returning too.

Jeongin squeaked and jumped back as the contents spilled everywhere. 

It looked as if Jisung had packed a celebration into his backpack- sparkling tidbits were drifting all around the area. He’d have to apologize to whoever was the poor soul that was going to be scrubbing the tiny small sparkles out of every crack. But, _ later _ . Everything that wasn’t related to Hyunjin’s disappearance and Minho’s still questionable location could be dealt with sometime that wasn’t _ now _.

Attention focused on the shininess, Jisung thanked every deity in existence that Jeongin hadn’t noticed the photographs lying among the mess. “Look up.” His voice was deep, rough from the exertion of breathing heavily for so long.

Surprisingly, Jeongin took to staring at the ceiling the moment the words left Jisung’s mouth. Hands clenching and unclenching at his sides in a rhythmic pattern, the boy was _ really _ trying his best to keep it together, despite all the panic.

Before Jisung had the chance to sift through the trash and pull the evidence out, Changbin entered the room. As one of the cafe’s primary bakers, his first reaction towards the chaos was offense: “What’s all this?” If a celebration was what the boys were planning- the _ kitchen _ certainly wasn’t the proper place to hold it. Yet, the way that the two had rushed into the cafe _ in the middle of a school day _ didn’t exactly say ‘Surprise! Let’s have fun!’. 

He hated being left out. Further accusations were hidden beneath the poorly veiled annoyance, ones that Jisung pointedly ignored as he completed his task. Changbin had never been one to be patient. Especially, not when emotions were running high.

Orienting the stack with a harsh few smacks to the counter top, Jisung thrust the photos towards the elder with a tight frown.

“What-?” The words died away in a choke as Changbin quickly realized the theme and _ subject _of the terror.

Jisung stood by impatiently. He wasn’t willing to waste any _ more _time, didn’t want to bother explaining when he, himself didn’t fully understand what was occuring, either.

The youngest was nearly drowning in his panic, a deep flush set into his features as he struggled to keep his eyes diverted.

A few seconds could be spared, Jisung acquiesced ruefully, if it meant maintaining sane comrades. Jeongin wouldn’t be useful in the slightest if he was going to break down.

“Jeongin-ah.” Jisung made sure to carefully soften his tone, calling the boy as if he were a small, scared animal. Reaching out to the maknae, he settled a hand on his shoulder. When Jeongin showed no signs of an adverse reaction, he pulled the boy in tight and patted his back in sympathy. 

There was no way that what was about to transpire was _ not _ going to completely scar Jeongin. Reluctantly, Jisung let that truth sink in. He could do what was possible to minimize the damage- but, there was very little Jisung could do to stop Jeongin from witnessing the horrors the hunter’s had committed.

“I’m _ so _sorry.” 

Jeongin whimpered, his entire body shaking with fear. The boy had no idea what was going on. Being in a familiar environment helped; but, there was no part of his being that wasn’t straining for constant reassurance that _ yes _ his soulmates were both still alive. In his mind, he could faintly tug on both of his connections and receive similar motions in return. Hyunjin and Seungmin were still out there. They were conscious enough to be able to respond to him. It would be okay. Whatever Jisung had stumbled upon, the three of them would come out the other side of it together- just as they always had.

Changbin wasn’t in the mood to offer condolences. The photos were thrown at the nearest wall with a shout of pure rage, some fluttering down to land on the ground at their feet.

“What is this!?” he repeated loudly, words filled with incredulous disbelief. _ Not Hyunjin. _ “Is this some kind of sick joke?!” _ It can’t be Hyunjin. He’s already been through so much. _

With little care, Jisung pulled away from Jeongin and pressed up against the adjacent counter with a hand at the base of his throat- not suffocating, but an obvious threat.

Did Changbin _ really _ think he had orchestrated some sort of sick scenario? Jisung’s stomach dropped in disbelief before he managed to steel himself. Changbin was just being protective. His aggression was misdirected. All Jisung had to do was make him realize the target it needed to be aimed towards.

The two leveled equally strong looks at each other, one far calmer than the other.

“That’s what I’m trying to figure out.” Ignoring the momentary tightening of Changbin’s hand, Jisung exhaled through his nose and gritted his teeth in an attempt to maintain _ his _anger towards the right party. 

He hated what the hunters were doing to their clan- hated what they had _ already _ done. The assholes had already taken the lives of Woojin, Changbin, and Minho’s parents. Why did they have to be so selfish? What had the clan _ ever _ done to deserve such tragedy? Jisung’s heart ached.

Jeongin’s mouth hung open in shock as he tried to process the aggressive behavior of his hyungs. His eyes bounced between the two as they silently battled. The clan had always been so peaceful- what was _ happening _ to them?

Changbin pressed closer, using his larger stature to cage Jisung in. Though he was slightly shorter, the boy was fiercely intimidating. Or, would’ve been. If he had been opposing anyone other than Han Jisung.

“Where is Minho-hyung?” 

“I don’t think _ that’s _the issue, right no-”

Knocking away the hand at his throat with a quick shove, Jisung grunted as he flipped their positions. Hands gripping tightly at the shoulders of Changbin’s button down, Jisung gave the boy a sharp shake to accentuate each word of his question: “Where. Is. Minho.”

Changbin looked dazed at the sudden change, taking a few seconds to gather his wits before answering in an empty, mechanical tone: “out with Chan-hyung. On his competition rounds. They went together.”

Jisung nodded at the answer, satisfied, thoughts flying through his head as he let go of Changbin and stepped back. He didn’t think twice before the orders were flowing:

“Call Woojin-hyung and get Seungmin out of school. Go pick them up. Don’t let anyone be alone. Take Lix with you. Bring them back here. Jeongin-ah and I will watch the cafe.” When Changbin hesitated- even though it was only the slightest of pauses- Jisung manhandled the elder towards the doors, pushing him through with the faith that Changbin’s basic instincts would prevent him from being hit as the door swung back.

In the moment that Jisung had stepped away, Jeongin’s gaze had dropped.

The boy’s knees soon gave out. 

With a blood-curdling scream, Jeongin clutched at the stills of his soulmate. Even though the one photo- the wretched one of Hyunjin’s bloody paws- was still lying on the counter, tears were streaming down Jeongin’s face.

He searched through the images, desperate to find the one that would give away any indication that it was all just some staged performance- a way of triggering an emotional low before a mind-blowing high.

There was no such hint.

Jeongin babbled questions as everything became distorted. Tears mixed with snot and spit as he struggled to understand _ why _ and _ when _ and _ how _everything had happened. 

Why_ Hyunjin? _

Why _ now? _

_ Why _ did everything always seem to go to shit?

_ How _ had they gotten him?

Had it happened _ when _ Hyunjin had left them? Did they take him away when his soulmates had been _right there_?

Could they have stopped it? Saved Hyunjin? Protected him like they should’ve done as his  _ soulmates _ ?

What were his parents thinking? They were always so adamant about Hyunjin being home at certain times that they _ had _ to have noticed their son’s absence by now.

They _ knew _that he was dating Seungmin and Jeongin- why hadn’t either of the boys been told? Did they really despise them that much? Or, were they so busy searching for their missing child that it hadn’t even crossed their minds to notify Hyunjin (inarguably) two most important people?

If any other of the boys had gone missing, their parents would’ve instantly notified the clan. There would’ve been an immediate search held.

If only-

If only they had _ known. _

That night, the cafe was filled with arguments over practically every topic.

Jisung had snapped when Changbin had offered to serve waters: “do you think Hyunjin’s had any?!” The human had become fiercely protective of the missing shifter and was quick to redirect all discussions back to their primary concern whenever the talk was even close to straying. 

Dr. Kim was often partaking as a mediator, hushing high emotions with knowing looks and soft gestures. He was seated between Jisung and Changbin at the table for that very purpose- a warm hand on each of their necks in a subtle warning.

Woojin was silent in his meanderings. He kept looking at the photos with a blank look on his face, too lost in his own thoughts to comment on any of the suggested plans.

Because that had been the only thing that they’d all successfully agreed upon. They _ were _ going to get Hyunjin back.

And they were going to do it that very day. Or, every day until he was back and in their grasp.

Seungmin had been crying since he’d come in the doors of the cafe. His remarks were constantly alternating between stubborn, caustic jabs and frightened whines. It was hard to tell which would come out at any given moment. More than not, the harsh words came out in high-pitched wobbles, the inability to articulate his thoughts only served to make Seungmin more annoyed as the hours passed.

Jeongin’s attempt to process his emotions had lasted all of twenty minutes. In a fit of hysteria, the youngest ushered his remaining soulmate into the bathroom and there had been a series of cries and sickening cracks. 

Minutes later, Seungmin reappeared with a small cat curled up in a bundle made from his uniform’s blazer. The transformation drained the remains of Jeongin’s energy.

He slept the rest of the meeting.

Minho and Chan never showed.


	47. [46] Welcome to the Fun House

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies if you are left utterly confused and mildly annoyed; but, that's the intent. :).
> 
> °˖✧◝(⁰▿⁰)◜✧˖°

Thirty hours.

Thirty hours since any clan member had seen Hyunjin.

Twenty nine hours.

Twenty nine hours since any contact from Hyunjin, himself, has successfully occurred.

Twenty eight hours.

Twenty seven hours.

Twenty six hours.

Twenty five hours.

Twenty four hours.

Twenty three hours.

Twenty two hours.

Twenty one hours.

Twenty hours.

Nineteen.

Eighteen.

Seventeen.

Sixteen Fifteen… F- four?...teen? 

Fourteen hours.

Thirteen.

Thirteen hours since Minho and Chan left to fulfill the former’s competition responsibilities. 

twelveeleventen...nine.

Nine hours since Jisung found the photos.

Nine hours since Jeongin shifted due to emotional overload.

Eight.

Eight hours since Doctor Kim initially contacted the Hwangs.

Seven.

Six.

Six hours since the clan became divided and woke Jeongin with their arguments.

Five.

Five hours since Woojin and Changbin served dinner to a silent table.

Four.

Three.

Two.

  
  
  


One.

One hour since the clan, in unity, decided on a plan.

  
  
  
  


Zero.

He never gave up.

How could he?

No matter how many hours passed- he could wait.

For him.

For  _ them. _

For his clan, he would wait. Believe. And…. live on.

Jisung felt like time was passing slower than it ever had before.

With no response from Minho  _ or _ Chan, he was quickly losing his mind.

What was he supposed to do if he lost him? Lost  _ them? _

He would lose his place- his meaning. Everything that he had come to cherish in this lifetime. All at once.

There was no doubt in Jisung’s mind that without Minho in his life: everything would, inevitably, go to shit.

In no world could he defend himself against the Hunters.

They knew his name.

His school.

_ Fuck. _ They even knew where his fucking  _ locker  _ was.

No amount of hiding or cowering would protect him from the foul savages.

It didn’t even make sense- without Minho, what threat did he possibly pose? If their organization’s purpose was purely anti-shifter, why were they targeting him?

In a moment of melodramatics, Han Jisung realized that he was merely collateral in a fate that wasn’t his own. But, in a surprising revelation amongst all the chaos, the human found that he wouldn’t trade it for any other life in the world.

With Minho at his side- Minho, his soulmate; Minho, the one who he gave his heart to- Jisung could face anything.

Give up anything.

Trade anything for.

They had relocated 2 hours ago; from the cafe to the main house for the sake of gathering supplies and planning without the fear of being watched. The curtains were drawn. Any light that could possibly shine through the edges of the curtains was muted or left off. For the members, all cell phones were required to be charged over ninety percent and carried whenever they broke line of sight with another clan member.

Everyone shuffled around with an air of morbidly tense urgency. The house- which was usually so warm- seemed like it’d been filled with a heavy fog that obstructed both physical movement and mental processes.

The clan sat on the ground in the living room once they had finished their personal preparations; supplies spread around them chaotically- like the remnants of a blast zone. 

Not one person had even glanced towards the couches. It was a comfort that Hyunjin didn’t have. That  _ Chan and Minho _ didn’t have. What made  _ them  _ more deserving of the soft luxury than their friends? 

Nothing.

Absolutely nothing.

As a group, they’d quickly discovered that it was (understandably) a sensitive night.

Nearly any word spoken set off  _ someone _ and all of the boys- at some point throughout the afternoon- had let out a burst of anger. Changbin’s had been the scariest; he pulled no punches in communicating his thoughts and went straight for the blunt truth every time.

Jeongin never shifted back. According to Seungmin- who refused to let the cat move further than an arm’s length away- it wouldn’t be possible for Jeongin to shift for a while. An emotional shift, particularly for a young shifter, was an uncontrollable coping mechanism. Much like shutting down (Seungmin), fright-hiccups (Felix), nervous twitches (Changbin), fidgeting (Jisung): it was likely to ebb and fade throughout the night.

No one would ever dare to force the boy to shift back, anyway. What good would it do to make their precious maknae undergo more stress in such a situation? 

Everyone was simply thankful for the moment Seungmin managed to silence his soulmate. The kitten’s cries were grating on the ears; wretchedly vocalizing the thoughts of the clan without uttering a single word.

Of course, they’d resumed the second Felix suggested that Changbin and Jisung stay back with the youngest. Being the two humans, they were naturally slower and louder than half a clowder; and Jisung, himself, was going to be a primary target if they were right about the Hunters’ true intentions.

As logical as the argument was- it wasn’t an option.

Changbin wouldn’t leave his soulmate to enter what would probably be a lair filled with their enemies. After an explosion of cuss words and agitated pacing; the boy’s energy dimmed to simmering embers. Felix found himself carrying around an extra person’s weight for the rest of the night. As if to prove how much he hated the thought of separation: Changbin had promptly and not-so-subtly attached himself to Felix’s hip. Going as far as to jump on his back when Woojin had requested Changbin’s help, ordering Felix around like his personal steed; as well as, following the younger to the bathroom (to stand directly outside and then reconnect when Felix was relieved).

Somehow, Felix never complained once. At one point of their odd horsey role-play, the red-head bucked so hard that they had both fallen to the ground in a fit of dry laughter.

Inevitably, the clinginess had driven Seungmin insane. The passive-aggressive exasperation from the pup fueled  _ more  _ pacing and huffing. 

It was understandable that he was stressed. 

More so than any of the other clan members, Seungmin wasn’t particularly fond of displaying affection. But, having one of his soulmates  _ missing _ and  _ in pain- _ in a place where he couldn’t reach him and be satiated with the elder’s mere presence- wore him down an astonishing amount. It was as though Hyunjin was the source of Seungmin’s positivity. Not even cute, kitten Jeongin had the power to bring a  _ tiny _ amount out of the empty boy.

And Jeongin, in an instant that frightened everyone, had nearly been flattened by his only remaining soulmate. In all of his introspective rants and meanderings, Seungmin had one string of particularly frustrating thoughts which caused him to post and turn quicker than his earlier pace. And the tip of Jeongin’s tail had been caught underneath Seungmin’s loafer.

The youngest’s screech reached new tones of despair and immediately caught the attention of every member- even that of those in the kitchen, who ran out with utensils still in their hands.

Seungmin broke. Sunk to his knees on the hard, wood flooring and began to bawl his eyes out.

Curled inward as tight as was physically possible, Seungmin created a shell for himself- in more ways than one. He shunned Jeongin’s attempts at apologizing (not that it was either of their faults); pushed away Dr. Kim’s low-voiced consolations and cussed out a very surprised Felix (who had been trailed, very unsurprisingly, by his soulmate).

Jisung chided and cautioned the others: “give him some space.” For he was mourning; though, he had no reason to be.

Hwang Hyunjin would be saved.

Minho and Chan would return.

They had to.

_ THEY HAVE TO. _

Though the triad had trained their bond to be flexible- the three had never  _ really  _ been apart. They were always together in heart. Even though he’d been shoved away, the black kitten hovered around his soulmate; ears and tail tucked, eyes large and attentive. Even though Jeongin’s own heart was aching, he still yearned to patch Seungmin’s.

Much to the shock of the room, it was Changbin that pup let in.

When the human stomped over- consumed by his own cloud of sparking, desperate emotion- and yanked Seungmin over, into his arms: the boy followed. Like a sack of potatoes, he toppled over and molded into the elder’s body.

And still, Seungmin wailed.

But, this time, he was wrapped in a blanket and cradled.

This time, he wasn’t alone.

It was dark.

Too late.

Too cold.

Falls nights had begun to take on an unwelcome edge of frigidity.

The stones underneath him were cold.

The surrounding area, too silent.

They were out there.

_ Them _ . The ones who were set on destroying their lives. The hated ones. The monsters that were hell-bent on eradicating an entire  _ species. _

He would find a way- a way to end  _ them _ before they tainted the lives of any more people.

Even if it killed him.

Even if it made him a murderer.

For the future of his family.

It was roughly an hour after dinner was finished that both Seungmin and Jeongin managed to gather (or, more accurately, exhaust) themselves.

Changbin was sandwiched between Felix and Seungmin, the latter of which had refused to move throughout the meal; nestled against the small human in his personally customized cocoon of blankets (more of which had been added since the pup begrudgingly accepted the first). To make the situation worse, Seungmin only ate when food was directly delivered to his mouth via Changbin’s personal spoon.

Felix merely observed the interaction; chest pressed against Changbin’s back, chin hooked over the elder’s shoulder. The orange-haired shifter was content- as much as he could possibly be- supporting his clanmates in silence.

Dr. Kim and Woojin sat together opposite the trio, while Jisung (with Jeongin curled up in his lap) occupied his own side of the table.

All the boys with missing soulmates had donned their own cold-resistant wares, not that they helped much. If anything, Minho’s over-sized, black crew-neck only made Jisung shake more. He never thought it was possible to miss someone  _ so bad _ that it’d freeze him to the core. A lifeless sweater couldn’t possibly defeat a cold that originated from inside.

The solemn silence was only broken by short sentences- thoughts that were so heavy that couldn’t be kept private.

They were waiting.

Biding their time over noodles and depreciating over self-defeating what ifs.

But, for what?

With all of their phones lined up in the middle of the table, time ticked away.

It was incredibly hard for Jisung to take his eyes off of the devices; to the point that he ended up completely missing his mouth with some of the reheated leftovers- on more than one attempt. His heart ached for a sign-  _ any _ sign that his soulmate was going to come back. Minho was out there-  _ somewhere _ . Jisung could just  _ barely _ sense the other end of the bond pulsing,  _ alive _ . The sensation was hardly reassuring. After all, both Seungmin and Jeongin could sense their soulmate, too, and yet- well… they had all seen the state of Hyunjin.

Time was being lost.

_ Hours. _

Precious minutes and seconds.

Moments that could be spent in throes of pleasure- not agonizing pain.

Doctor Kim took charge.

Woojin was in no position to lead. Consumed by his own miserable chills, which only grew more intense as the moon rose, the boy’s mental health was quickly deteriorating. Without Chan at his side, the clan’s presiding head was just short of a wreck. Unlike any of the other impacted pairs, Woojin and Chan were  _ rarely _ apart longer than short minutes. Even Minho and Jisung- despite the age of their relationship- had made more progress on willful estrangement.

They were  _ always  _ together. Woojin was Chan’s sous chef. The guy who scratched the one unreachable spot in the middle of his back. The one that made the bed when Chan stumbled to the bathroom in his infuriatingly methodical (sleepless) morning routine. Chan’s sick buddy; because what’s better than being nursed back to health then returning the favor? Nothing. More accurate than any other correlation, Woojin is to Chan what oxygen is to the majority of humans.

Seungmin was hit the hardest by wracking tremors; but, Woojin wasn’t far behind. Not even the warm arms of his own father could calm his soul’s loneliness. 

Though, aided by his father’s subtle murmurs and pats of reassurance, the leader was narrowly able to keep his anxiety in check.

Kim Seohyuk picked up his crown- for the second time in his lifetime- like he’d never let go of it, in the first place. The fluidity with which the man adapted to an air of authority was impressive.

He allowed the boys time to calm down; allowed their breathing to return to a normal cadence, before issuing out orders that left little room for refusal:

“Changbin, go find two backpacks. Black. If you don’t have any, try Channie’s room.

“Seungmin, where’s that jacket of yours?” Having been propped up on his own- after reflexively flinching away from Felix’s open-armed offer- Seungmin was a miserable, reclusive bundle. And yet, he responded promptly to Dr. Kim’s question with a small jerk of his head towards the adjacent couch. 

Indeed, the jacket had been thrown carelessly over the arm.

“Alright,” the man nodded, “Felix, take his jacket and make something that’ll Jisung let carry Little Jeongin-ah and keep his hands free. A simple sling should work well enough.” The boy nodded, immediately grabbing the fabric and twisting it into careful knots, periodically comparing the size against his twin’s thin frame.

“Jisung. When he gets back, I need you to help Changbin pack the bags. Put everything you think we’ll need in there. And don’t forget a change of clothes for each of our boys.” 

_ We don’t know what we’ll find when we see them again. _

Determined to complete the assigned task well, Jisung’s mind immediately began creating lists and ticking off the items that had already been gathered.

_ First aid kit. Clothes. Water. Portable chargers. Protein bars. Shoes? They take up so much room, though… extra socks, instead. Bobby pins, duct tape, and a bundle of rope. What if we have to break in somewhere? What if they have guns? What i- _

“We need to organize this mess. Seungmin-ah-” the boy froze, startled at being addressed for the second time in such a short period. Obviously, Seungmin had expected to wallow and be ignored after rejecting everyone’s attempts at sympathizing. It took a few tense seconds before Seungmin’s head poked out of the pile, eyes wide and a single eyebrow high. “Can you please help me organize the supplies so that the others can pack them quickly?” He made sure to keep the request simple and light with an underlying option for Seungmin to remain in place.

Jisung and Felix shared a look of surprise when the doctor decided to include the distraught pup; but, quickly understood the rationale. Allowing Seungmin to busy himself with a simple task, one which definitely played to his strengths, would stop the boy from sinking further into despair.

Turning to look at both of the twins in their eyes, Kim Seohyuk smiled, “the sooner we’re ready, the sooner we can see them again.” The conviction in the man’s voice was convincing, the last little push needed to set the boys in motion.

Cold.

Too wet.

The wind had ate away at his skin like an endless roll of grating sandpaper.

Thankfully, the window was shut now.

There was blood running down his leg and _fuck_ _the cuts hurt_.

Of course, there was no way to express that.

He was trapped.

_ They  _ were trapped. Not together, of course, because that would have been too dangerous. But, nearby. Close enough for comfort.

The voices outside the door were back.

It was the third time. The Hunters always came in and played around, taunting him with empty threats and pathetically clanging their pots and pans. It was like they had nothing better to do than roughhouse and say their degrading words.

As if anyone would ever be afraid of kitchen supplies.

As if they could ever make him believe that he was  **‘ugly. Unlovable. So worthless you might as well give up.’**

As if anything could be more frightening than not saying goodbye.

They looked like a pair of high school kids walking around every pet in the neighborhood. The only peculiarities being that none were attached to a leash and each seemed to behave on a level slightly above the average domesticated animal.

Seungmin stuck close to Changbin’s side, ears back and tail barely swaying with each step. More than once, Changbin had been forced to nudge the pup over to create enough distance to walk without fear of crushing a paw.

At the front, Woojin’s dad led with his son just behind; their gray fur practically disappearing in the night’s shadows. Jisung had (admittedly) been half-expecting a scraggly, old cat; but, Kim Seohyuk looked only a tad more mature than his kin. His long fur rivaled the length of Chan’s fluff and if Jisung hadn’t known better, he would’ve thought the soulmates were both descendants of the man.

Once they were all back together, Jisung  _ had  _ to take a picture to confirm the thought with the other clan members. The resemblance was eerie.

They had been betting on the lack of streetlights. All humans would face relatively equal hindrances in the darkness; while the shifters’ enhanced senses would hopefully aid in locating and rescuing their boys. Plus, there was the added benefit of less pedestrian and locomotive interference that create disruptions.

Not that the clan needed to sniff their way out to Hyunjin’s residence. That was just an essential part of Dr. Kim’s established Plan B (and C, and D, E, F, G, and H….). No one knew what they were going against- if it’d be fist’s or some other form of gruesomely engineered pain inflictors. So, the edge that concealment gave them was critical.

Both humans did their best to remain silent as they watched familiar neighborhoods pass by. Hyunjin didn’t live  _ that  _ far away, according to Felix (pre-shift). Even if he  _ did _ , they would’ve trekked to the end of the world for him.

Jisung had Jeongin wrapped up in the makeshift sling; the kitten constantly shaking like a leaf blowing in the wind. Jeongin’s claws had sunk into his arm and refused to let go since the moment Jisung had saved him from Seungmin’s rejection. 

Thus, despite Dr. Kim’s hopeful thinking that Jisung would have two free hands, he had one. Kind of. Almost. The kit occupied one side while the other was tightly clutching Felix’s old cell phone- on high alert for any message from either Chan or Minho. In the end, it was better than having their youngest wailing out, nonstop, into the night. 

Getting the straps over his shoulder had been a challenge fit for the internet.

Moving more than two feet away from Seungmin had been even more difficult. Regardless of the middle soulmate’s harsh actions, Jeongin fiercely refused to be distanced. (Thankfully, he hadn’t refused to be temporarily held by Felix- after a promise it would be the fastest trip in his life- when Jisung had to use the bathroom. That had been the  _ only _ reason that the claws had come out.)

As it was, Jisung’s index finger had recently been caught between two forepaws and turned into a chew toy for the scared kitten. Thankfully, none of his skin had been pierced. 

Yet.

Their mission was simple: find Hyunjin.

Earlier, at the cafe, Dr. Kim had taken the initiative to call Hyunjin’s parents and ask about the boy’s whereabouts. Of course, it was all inconspicuous; disguised as an invitation to the typical, clan Wednesday meal. They’d “unfortunately missed out on their traditional, weekly festivities for the last couple of weeks and the boys were all wondering as to whether they could expect Hyunjin-ah to be joining them- for dinner and possibly a movie afterwards.” And,  _ by all means _ , if the  _ rest  _ of the Hwangs decided to join, they were more than welcome, too.

Mrs. Hwang immediately denied all possibilities of any of the Hwangs participating. (Without even bothering to fake how sad they were that their  **family ** would be absent) Hyunjin’s  _ aunt  _ was in town, after all. And they would  _ never _ miss an opportunity to wine and dine with a  **family ** member who lived  _ hours _ away and could only find time to join her  _ beloved _ sister’s  **family ** _ once  _ a year. Uninterrupted  **Family ** Time is a must for the Hwang household.

So- no.

None of the Hwangs would be attending their  _ ‘little’  _ gathering.

_ What a fat load of bullshit. _

First of all,  _ little _ would be the entirely incorrect word to describe the meals that Chan, Woojin, and their lucky Chosen Servant(s) of the Week cooked up. It was always nothing short of a buffet-style feast.

Moreover, it wasn’t  _ little _ in terms of traditional values, either. Being apart from one's clan- particularly filled with clingy cat shifters (sorry, Seungmin)- was never something beneficial. It was taxing on both physical and mental health. The anxieties from separation and the simple yearning to reassure oneself that  _ all  _ significant others (romantic and otherwise) are safe heavily amass with each additional moment of disconnection.

And  _ fAMILY _ ? At least in the eyes of the two soulmates,  _ they _ were Hyunjin’s  _ true _ family, now. Not the monsters who forced him into awful meetings and Family Time.

Jisung didn’t know much about Hyunjin’s background and it seemed to be for a good reason. ‘If you can't say somethin’ nice- don't say nothin’ at all’ as the saying goes.

Since Hyunjin’s parents seemed obstinate of Hyunjin’s participation in family ordeals, Dr. Kim decided that they should take a trip to visit and pay their respects. The Hwangs still hadn’t met Jisung yet, either; so, Dr. Kim decided to take the opportunity as one of the clan’s primary elders to cordially introduce their newest addition.

Even as a human, Jisung was enduring  _ all _ of the effects.

Aside from Jeongin’s small body quaking against his and Seungmin’s near-constant whining, everything was oddly quiet and still. Every beat of Jisung’s heart seemed to rattle his skeleton and resound in the air nearby. Every footstep and crackle of nearby autumn leaves was ten times worse.

The sun had set hours ago.

And yet, a cold sweat had taken over his body. Skin tacky and the tips of his hair damp, Jisung was focusing on every positive memory he could summon. The cinnamon-tinged warmth. The  _ bundles _ \- which had no organization and  _ always _ wrinkled every piece inside. The weird mugs? And the drink that only his soulmate could make him. His new room with so many details; every time he went in, it was a new adventure. The endearing shopping trip he’d taken with Jeongin for school supplies- that time in the schoolyard the clan members had saved his life. 

It all seemed so recent and simultaneously so far in the past that the details bled together and slipped through Jisung’s fingers. 

What did Chan’s laugh sound like?

How did Minho’s face always twitch whenever Hyunjin was teasing Changbin?

Jeongin’s purr- where was the spot that automatically brought out the rumbles?

Which of the toys was Seungmin’s favorite?

Who was faster- Felix or Woojin?

One day, he’d be reminded of all those answers.

Hyunjin’s home… wasn’t what he was expecting. Standing at the intersection between public and private property, Jisung couldn’t help it as his jaw dropped at the sheer extent of the lot.

Tall, marble pillars standing tall in the middle night added to the imposing nature of the massive architecture. There were no shutters, only a single, solid white, two-story face. The largest windows that Jisung had ever seen were equidistant, on both sides of the front door. All of the plants were trimmed to perfection; the trees which lined the edge of the property were shaped into perfect, comic-like stacks of balls, creating a natural fence to obstruct prying observers. No personal identifiers were posted for outside eyes, not even a placard with the family name and address number.

Everything seemed….  _ big. _ Too much and all too little, all at the same time. Desolate.

It was nothing short of excessive.

The amount of time that was necessary to maintain such detailed landscaping must’ve been ridiculous.

But somehow, the most unsettling thing about the entire house (mansion? Maybe that was a more accurate term?) was that it was deserted. All lights inside were off; yet, the one outside the entryway was lit.

Changbin motioned for Woojin and a very disgruntled Seungmin to “stay” with Jisung while he jogged around the house’s corner to privately aid Dr. Kim in his transition. 

The man could’ve just walked over in his human form; but, they’d all agreed that two boys looked far less noteworthy to the passing eye. Plus, the upper echelons of the hunters were apparently  _ quite  _ familiar with Kim Seohyuk’s voice due to their frequent, past transgressions. No obstacles that could interfere with their goal would be tempted.

Less than a minute later, Dr. Kim returned in full, formal, white-coated professionalism. An unquestionable aura of sophistication flowed from the man. He had come for nothing less than an amicable meeting between mature adults.

Changbin trailed behind, nearly tripping as he attempted to stuff his backpack’s effects back into a state of manageable chaos, only further enforcing the doctor’s polished nature.

As Dr. Kim solemnly looked each of the younger members in the eyes, Jisung finally felt the apprehension set in.  _ This is it.  _ They had planned extensively for Hyunjin’s rescue: how to get the cage apart (if their friend was still locked up); how to determine which injuries required immediate attention; how to get Hyunjin and the rest of their party  _ away _ to safety while ensuring that the hunters wouldn’t be able to follow; where their rendezvous point would be. There were a lot of details at the time.

But, in the moment? Jisung felt  _ so  _ underprepared.

Changbin’s cliff notes on self-defense were so rushed that he could barely retain anything. And Dr Kim’s brief lesson on injuries common to hostages hadn’t sunk in much better.

Jisung still shivered at the idea of having to poke a tube into Hyunjin’s airways; or, possibly turning the knot on a tourniquet that would save Hyunjin’s life while condemning him to living a life sans a limb. Those weren’t decisions that Jisung was ready to make. He could barely handle himself- how was he supposed to take responsibility for  _ someone else’s _ life??

The doctor suddenly spun on his heel and strode up the pathway.

Taking a collectively deep breath in, the boys followed in kind, their faces set with pure determination. They  _ would  _ get Hyunjin back- even if they had to spend all night searching. There was no question of  _ if _ , only  _ when _ .

Both Seungmin and Jeongin had fallen dead quiet shortly after turning onto the street, subtly tucking themselves away into the shadows. Not even Jeongin’s pointy, little ears could be seen from where he was nestled away in the sling.

The instant that Dr. Kim moved to ring the doorbell, Changbin jumped forward. Wrapping his hand around the man’s outstretched finger, the scene froze.

Changbin was  _ terrified _ .

And he had chosen the last, split second to express it.

Trembling, the human lowered their hands, but didn’t let go.

Stepping forward to put his body between the doctor and the door, Changbin shook his head slowly.

Jisung balked, mind spinning with explicit admonishments. Without thinking twice, he opened his mouth to tell the other off for wimping out. They were close to _so_ _many_ answers. _Hyunjin could be _right _behind that door? What the fuck’s he doing?!_

Ever patient, Dr. Kim simply looked down at the small boy and tilted his head in confusion.

Seemingly ashamed of his own actions, Changbin whispered, in a voice so soft that Jisung had to lean forward: “I think it would be best if Seung and Innie waited around back.” 

Jisung’s anger faded fractionally as he thought about the rationality of the proposal. If anything were to happen in the house- or outside of it, for that matter- having all of their party in one place  _ probably _ wouldn’t be the  _ best  _ plan. But, still, could he  _ really _ expect the soulmates to wait outside for them?

If it were Minho inside- which it very well could be, with the way that the night had been progressing- Jisung wouldn’t be able to wait. As it was, he was  _ two seconds _ away from breaking down that fucking door and storming the place. Jisung wasn’t on the edge of a breakdown. Nope. Not at all.

It wasn’t until Changbin added: “Jinnie’s parents don’t really like them..” that Jisung froze. 

_ What? _

Changbin flinched at his own recollections, his eyes locking with Jisung’s before dropping to focus on the two soulmates. Seungmin was hiding underneath a nearby bush, a white patch of fur on his ear giving away his position.

A low whine had Felix getting up from where he’d been settled at Jisung’s feet. Slinking over to the pup, the orange feline dug his way underneath the branches to settle against Seungmin’s flank. Another, higher whine chorused from the petrified kitten; though, it was more of a disembodied squeak of agreement than anything.

Dr. Kim frowned, the information managing to break through his mask of carefully constructed stoicism.

Pulling his finger free, the doctor moved to kneel in front of the bush and waved a hand at Jisung for him to do the same.

In closer proximity, Seungmin was an absolute wreck.

Tears were streaking from his eyes, creating nasty clumps in the fur underneath his eyes. Since he’d been crawling around in the shrubbery- in an apparent attempt to hide from Hyunjin’s awful family- there were dirt and leaves embedded throughout the pup’s dappled coat. “Okay.” 

In one swift movement, Seungmin was pulled out of the bushes and onto his feet. The pup’s legs wobbled as he leaned against the doctor’s knees while the man picked out the largest particles. “Jisung’s going to give you his sling.” The human didn’t need to wait to be told to act; he was moving before Dr. Kim managed to finish the rest of his instructions: “Wait near Hyunjin-ah’s window. Somewhere in the bushes-  _ not by the house. _ We won’t be able to hear if they find you and we’re inside. You have to look out for each other. Understand?” 

A weak whimper of affirmation shook through Seungmin’s body. 

Once Jisung finished tying the knot around Seungmin’s neck, the dog looked up and licked a long line of thankful slobber up his face.

Jisung nearly fell over, he was so shocked. Quickly gathering his scattered wits, Jisung ran a hand across Seungmin’s back and allowed for a soft smile to grace his face. Somehow, he knew exactly what his clanmate was trying to communicate. “Protect Jeongin, alright? We’ll get Hyunjin back to you. I promise. Stay safe, Seungmin-ah.” Patting the lump in the sling lightly, Jisung added, “you, too, Innie. Protect your hyung well.” Somehow, Jeongin managed to nip right at the tip of his finger- even when blinded by the jacket’s thick material.

Another lick- this time, to the other side of his face- and Seungmin was racing off, out of sight in a flash.

Dr. Kim pulled Jisung up with a helpful hand underneath his elbow. With an adoring grin, he meticulously straightened the straps of Jisung’s backpack. 

“Anything else I should be aware of?” The light tone didn’t stop a shiver from running down Changbin’s spine as he bent to pick up his soulmate, needing the tactile reassurance to deal with the tense environment.

Nuzzling into the disordered fur, Changbin let out a soft hum of declination.

Dr. Kim nodded, returning his attention back to the door and rolled his shoulders out. If they kept getting interrupted every ten seconds, Hyunjin might-… well. Better not to think about that. Not when they were right outside.

A warning hiss came from behind the boys.

In a surprising show of strength, Dr. Kim pulled both the human’s to his body, an arm protectively wrapped around each of their shoulders. The only one who could properly interpret the sound was trapped in the middle, frozen solid with fear.

Woojin continued to make that  _ awful _ , bone-chilling noise as his clan cowered together, waiting for the offender(s) to make themselves known. The fur along his back was sticking up; pupils so wide that the cat’s eyes were nearly consumed with black; and tail straight as a pole: Woojin was focused on the window pane to the right of the door.

_Exactly _at the place where the curtains were ripping and a curious pair of eyes were staring out.

The four were rooted in place, everything scenario of being caught, captured, and tortured (not that they had done anything wrong) racing through their minds.

The hisses died away as their young (and, admittedly, very non-threatening) observer was identified.

Jisung, being the furthest from the window, forced out a question whilst employing his ventriloquist skills: “does Hyunjin... have a  _ sister? _ ”

Changbin slumped with a heavy sigh. Breaking free of the doctor’s grasp, the boy launched himself- with Felix still in his arms- over the shrubbery and to the window.

The sudden daringness startled Jisung, who curiously watched the interaction.  _ How can he move like that when he barely leaves his computer?? I can’t walk up stairs without being winded??  _ Someday he would learn Changbin’s secrets.

Also confusing him was the thought:  _ why the fuck is he trying to talk to her?!  _ The kid could easily yell and get her parents- whoever they actually were. He hated knowing that their fate was in the hands of some random ten year old. Bile bubbled in Jisung’s stomach as he anxiously waited for their fate to play out.

Changbin’s nose barely reached the bottom of the sill; so, he was forced to stand a couple of feet back and balance on his toes so that he could see the kid. Recognition flashed through her eyes as he grew closer.

“Yah! Yeji-yah! Let us in!” Whisper-yelling, Changbin gestured wildly with one hand and pointed towards the front door.

It was obvious that the kid got what he was saying- she looked  _ directly  _ at the entryway and right back, her lip caught between her teeth.

_ We’re wasting time.  _

Changbin continued his theatrics for another minute, to no avail. Not even aegyo worked on the brat. Undeniably, she was a stubborn Hwang.

_ Can’t we just break down the door? Fuck knocking. Let’s just bust in and grab Hyunjin.  _ Jisung’s willingness to be polite and civil was quickly fading. If Hyunjin’s parents weren’t actually involved…. He could just grovel for forgiveness, or something. Not like they weren’t loaded and couldn’t afford a new, (ugly) fancy door anyway.

Suddenly, amid the human’s increasingly frustrated gesturing,  _ Yeji _ held up a single finger and disappeared.

“ _ Finally _ .” Jisung and Changbin huffed.

But, the door never opened.

Instead, Yeji reappeared with a notebook.

Uncapping a black marker, she quickly scrawled out:

** _BE QUIET._ **

** _THEY WILL HERE YOU_ **

Immediately, Changbin mimed zipping his lips and tossing the key away.

Seemingly satisfied, she frowned and turned back to the spiral. On a fresh page:

** _MOM AND DAD WERE MAD ALL DAY_ **

** _THEY YELLD A LOT._ **

** _DONT WAKE THEM_ **

** _I DONT WANT THEM TO YELL_ **

** _DONT LIKE YELLS._ **

Playing along, Changbin held up an okay sign and dug into his pockets for his phone, clumsily unlocking it and opening the notepad app before typing out a message of his own. Looking down as if he were concentrating  _ extra  _ hard, Changbin muttered, “I’m asking her if she’s seen Hyunjin and why they were mad.”

Holding the phone up to a window- still on his tiptoes- Changbin quietly tacked on: “she’s Hyunjin’s cousin. I’ve only met her once before. Her parents are  _ super  _ fucking weird; but, she’s the sweetest little thing ever to live.”

A look of anguish passed over Yeji’s face as she wrote her next message out, tears rising up and ready to spill over. The book shook as Changbin read over the words:

** _I HAVNT SEEN HIM._ **

** _THEY SAID HE DIDNT WANT TO SEE ME SO HE STAYS WITH A FRIEND. _ **

** _I DONT KNOW WHY MOMMY AND DADDY ARE MAD. _ **

** _I HID_ **

** _IT WAS SCARY._ **

Jisung’s heart lurched. He’d never been around younger people very much; but Changbin was  _ right _ . With her pigtails and pajamas, Jisung silently wished  _ the cutest _ Hwang all the best for the future. Hopefully, her parents weren’t as  _ trash  _ as Hyunjin’s were turning out to be.

As Changbin hurriedly typed out his next message, the light in the room in front of him lit up in a blinding flash. On instinct, Changbin dropped down and pressed his back against the siding of the house. Felix was set down on the ground and given a slight push to force him back to the others, towards the safety of the bushes.

The cat refused to move; claws digging into the fake, manicured grass. Wrapping his tail around Changbin’s leg, Felix let out a low growl. He was  _ not _ leaving his soulmate to fend off the whackos alone.  _ Not in a million years. _

“HWANG YEJI! WHAT ARE YOU DOING OUT OF BED?!! AT  _ THIS  _ TIME OF NIGHT??” A shrill shriek echoed through the house, followed by a heavy thud, and a shattering ceramic sound, and-

Yeji  _ screaming? _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fair warning this time, I have a lot of important outside obligations piling up so the next chapter will be delayed quite a bit.
> 
> On a happier note! TWW's one year birthday is next month! What a horrifying thought....
> 
> °˖✧◝(⁰▿⁰)◜✧˖°


End file.
